Forget Me Not
by Sarcasma
Summary: After an accident Ginny can't remember. She can't remember her family, her life, or Harry. In the struggle to find her memories, can Harry make her fall in love with him again?
1. Bludgers

**_A/N:_** I have been trying to think through a Harry/Ginny story for a while now. The hard part is that to have a decent romance you need complications and for complications you sometimes need someone being a jerk and I didn't really want to do one of those with Harry/Ginny again... I also wasn't much in the mood for a villain plot with the two, so this one is more romantic comedy/drama than I would normally do. Hope it's still enjoyed! Reviews are always appreciated and (if you are signed in) responded to! ** _  
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 ** _Bludgers_**

"She shoots... She scores!"

Ginny pumped her fist as Ron growled when the Quaffle made it past him. "Not all of us play fifty hours a week," Ron pointed out. "Not to mention you get top of the line brooms."

"Oh, don't be a poor sport," Bill said. Him and Charlie pulled up beside Ginny. George was still down at his own hoops, shouting out in celebration.

They were playing in the clearing near The Burrow. Ron, Harry, and Charlie against Ginny, Bill, and George. Ginny's team was up eighty points.

"One of these times I ought to get dibs on having her on my team," Ron complained. Harry was coming over, hovering near Ron, having fetched the Quaffle. He winked at Ginny, apparently not as upset as Ron over losing. "She's the only proper chaser out of everyone here and I'm always stuck trying to block her."

"Don't blame me because you've gone soft," Ginny said, dashing forward and snatching the Quaffle from Harry, who followed closely behind as play resumed.

Ginny loved getting to play with her brothers like this. Growing up, she'd always been left out, too little or because she was a girl. They liked to play rough, but now that she was grown they recognized that, well... so did she. She'd played for the Harpies for three seasons by now, but if she were perfectly honest she loved this even more. And that was saying something.

Ginny tossed the Quaffle to Bill, who fumbled it, Harry intercepting it and turning to take it towards George.

Ginny leaned on her broom and moved forward, just passing Harry and cutting him off. He pulled back to avoid a crash which gave her a moment to make a grab for the Quaffle, taking back once more. Harry almost fell from his broom trying to recover. Ginny looked back, smiling at him as she rushed the end of the field. Ron gripped his broom handle with a look of steely determination. Ginny feigned right and, as Ron moved to block her, traded the Quaffle to her left hand and easily put it through the left hoop.

Doing a loop around the hoops, she came around and gave Ron a kiss on his cheek. He tried to maintain his scowl, but couldn't quite manage.

"Ron," Hermione shouted, walking over. "Harry, Ginny! Everyone! Your mum wants you to wash up for dinner!"

"This game isn't over," Ron said.

"Oh give it up," Charlie said as everyone landed. "We lost, it's done."

Harry grabbed Ginny's hand as they made their way back to the house. "We're still on for tonight right?" he asked her. He had been asking her every other hour or so for the past two days. They'd been planning a date night. An official one, at least. Now that she wasn't working all the time, they spent most of their evenings together.

"Of course," Ginny replied.

Fleur was already sitting with Victorie at the table in the garden, cut up potatoes and bits of vegetable and meat at the ready.

"Aunt Gin!" Victorie shouted. "Look, Aunt Gin." Victorie picked up a fork and shoveled a mouth full of potatoes into her mouth. She looked up to Ginny, her expression full of pride. She swallowed and added, "I did it!"

"Wow," Ginny acted impressed. Victorie was at the stage that everything she did, she wanted praise and Ginny certainly wasn't going to deprive her. "That was amazing," she said.

Everyone washed up and sat around the table, Molly fussing over Harry getting more to eat, as usual. "Really, Mrs. Weasley, I'm alright," he said, but even Ginny thought he hadn't eaten much. She wondered if he was planning to take her out to eat. She certainly hadn't held back as he hadn't mentioned the plans to her, but now she wondered if she'd be stuffing herself again in a couple hours.

George was telling Charlie about the additions to the shop and Hermione was chatting up Percy on the latest draft of her legislation for House Elf Rights. Her views had finally become tempered, in the last couple years, and as a result she was able to bring others around to a similar way of thinking. Not to free house elves, or give them pay through mandate, but to at least ensure proper treatment. "We are receiving kickback from some of the older wizarding families," Hermione said.

"Malfoy?" Ginny asked.

"Surprisingly, no," Hermione said. "It seems they lost all interest in politics, actually."

Ron seemed pleased at this. Bill had another theory. "They may also realize that by fighting it, they bring attention to the issue and their own involvement."

"Well, regardless, we should have some initiatives through in the next month."

"Very good," Percy said. "It reminds me of the drafts I did regarding regulation of broom travel a year or so ago. It was..."

Percy prattled on, but Ginny turned her attention away from him, talking with her dad about some of what he'd been dealing with at work. All in all, the evening passed pleasantly. Ginny excused herself from the table eventually and went to her room to get changed.

"You should wear your green dress," Hermione suggested, coming into the room.

Ginny had picked a more casual outfit—jeans with a nice blouse—but she looked at Hermione. "Why?"

"I just think it looks nice," Hermione said with a shrug, but she raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"Did Harry tell you what he had planned?"

Hermione shook her head, though Ginny wasn't sure if she could believe Hermione. She'd been part of a rather elaborate cover up when the family surprised her at the opening game last season. Ginny wouldn't have pinned Hermione for it, but she was a fairly decent liar. Ginny went to the closet and changed into the dress. "When were we supposed to do bridesmaid dress fittings again?" Ginny asked.

Hermione and Ron had been engaged for a couple months. She had asked Ginny to be her maid of honor, with a warning that her parents were insistent that one of the bridesmaids be a cousin who was a bit of a cow. "I think we'll go to pick something out in about a month, if that's okay," Hermione said. "We'll be having to go to a muggle shop, of course."

"Should be fun," Ginny said, checking her reflection in the mirror, pulling her hair out of the pony tail and trying to get a decent wave to it. "And have you decided on an actual date?"

"Next September, I think," Hermione said. "With everyone talking about how you'll be selected for England in the World Cup Tournament—"

"Oh, don't plan it based on that,"Ginny said. What everyone was saying was all speculation. In off season it was all the Quidditch writers could do... who was going to be traded, who was being added to the roster, and predictions for who would receive invitations to play for their national teams. This past year it was heavily predicted Ginny would play chaser for England, but the third spot went to a William Hoffman instead. Rather arrogant man, but a good player. They had gone decently far in the tournament this year, though England hadn't made it to the finals in over two decades. When they didn't make it this time plenty of reporters made a point of writing that it may have happened had they chosen Ginny instead. She thought this was a bit of a stretch, as they lost their last game because the snitch had been caught within the first ten minutes.

"Still, a fall wedding seems best," Hermione said.

"Sounds great," Ginny commented, grabbing her wand and turning for inspection.

"You look beautiful," Hermione said with a smile.

"Don't wait up," Ginny said, sauntering to the door.

"Try telling your parents that."

Ginny shot a mischievous look back at Hermione and took the steps down. Harry was waiting in the living room, playing a game of chess with Ron. He rubbed his hands together when he looked up and saw Ginny. "Hey," he said, one side of his mouth lifting in a grin, his green eyes lit up. Ginny came up to him, leaning in for a kiss.

"Get a room," Ron complained and Ginny responded by digging her fingers into Harry's hair, pulling him in for a more passionate kiss. He responded in kind, grabbing Ginny and pulling her body into his by the small of her back. Ron growled his disapproval. "I mean, really," he muttered, getting up from his chess board.

Ron had mostly lightened up about Ginny's dating life, particularly since it was clearly proving to be a good situation with her and Harry. He still liked to pretend the overprotective older brother from time to time, though, and Ginny had learned to just roll with it. It was better to have a laugh over it than to be irritated anyway. "Alright, you ready?" Ginny asked when she pulled back.

"Er, yeah," Harry said, patting his pockets and grabbing her hand.

Harry had gotten tickets to a theater production on Diagon Alley. Some famous play that Ginny was still trying to figure out how it had been so popular. She couldn't follow half the dialogue, and not because it was archaic. "How did the… man and his best friend's cousin's daughter end up together again?" Ginny asked as they came out of the theater.

"No idea," Harry said. "Sorry… that was supposed to be more… fun."

Ginny laughed. "Oh, it was nice," she said. "I just wanted to make sure I wasn't the only idiot who didn't get it."

"No, we were idiots together," Harry confirmed. "Maybe Hermione will know something about it and can explain."

He lead them through the streets of Diagon Alley and out into Muggle London. Harry stopped them at a crepe shop that he said someone from work had told him about and they had dessert. Ginny couldn't help but notice he didn't finish this either. After, they wandered around the streets, just talking and laughing. This was the best part of any date with Harry, really. The parts that didn't require planning or tickets or anything else. Just the two of them.

They'd gotten to some garden filled with roses. Harry tugged on her hand, pulling her towards a large tree that seemed to have grown upward to some point, then decided it would much rather grow back into the ground. The branches circled all around, creating a sort of cave inside. He cleared a path with Ginny following behind. Although it was already dark outside, when they stepped farther in, a bright glow surrounded them. As they managed to get into the center Ginny realized they were surrounded by little fairies with glowing wings. One flew right past her, casting its glowing blue light across her skin. "Oh, this is beautiful," Ginny said, looking up and around them.

She felt Harry move and looked back down to find him on one knee. She froze.

Harry smiled, swallowed and cleared his throat. "You know, er… I had a speech all planned and memorized and now I don't remember any of it."

Ginny put a hand up to her mouth, pressing her lips together. Harry pulled out a box, opening it to reveal a simple golden band with a diamond on top.

"All I can remember is that I want to be with you forever," he said. "So, Ginny… would you marry me?"

If Harry had problems forming words, Ginny was truly speechless. She nodded and held out her shaking hand. Harry placed the ring on her finger, laughing as he seemed to struggle with this. He stood and pulled Ginny into him. Their lips locked and Ginny wrapped herself up in Harry, feeling that no one could ever be quite as perfect as him.

* * *

It had been a busy year for all of them. Harry and Ginny started talking plans, though they were waiting until December. There had been some discussion about doing a double wedding with Ron and Hermione in September, but Molly had insisted each of her children needed their own day and Ginny got the distinct impression that Ron wasn't as thrilled by the idea as Hermione had seemed at first.

Ginny was fine with this. She wanted something more low key and told Harry it was better if her mum got all her crazy out on Ron's wedding first. Ginny almost moved in with Harry before the start of season, but had found out the Harpies's policy on portkey commuting was limited to officially married members of the team. At that point she seriously considered eloping, but Harry convinced her there was no rush. And so, Ginny lived in Wales and played her fourth season.

And now she sat on her broom, ready to take the field for England in the World Cup tournament being held in Moscow. Harry cheered loudly with Hermione, Ron, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Charlie, who had all made it on vacation to watch Ginny play. Ginny rushed by their box and Harry could imagine a wink from her as she passed, even though she moved too fast to actually see this.

Harry felt a swell of pride every time her name was called when the game began. She had been the best decision England had made in years. Ginny had complained a bit about her teammate, Hoffman, but they worked remarkably well together considering he was such an ass during practice. The third chaser, Nile Baker, was finishing his career, rounding out a great scoring team. They had an excellent keeper, and though their seeker wasn't known for quick catches, he was known for his ability to block his opponent until he caught the snitch.

If they won this game, England would be in the final match for the World Cup. Everyone else kept gushing about it, but when Ginny was around she insisted they stop. The pressure, Harry was sure, was already high. There were still critics against her appointment, but Harry was glad she was proving them wrong. In the last game, she had scored more than half the points overall, and that was with England catching the snitch.

The whistle blew and the game was on. The England crowd was frantic as the Quaffle was taken back and forth. It was nearly ten minutes before the first score was made by Ginny, which set off a streak of goals by England, occasionally punctured by ten points to Mexico. One penalty shot was given for a foul and Baker took the shot, barely getting it through.

"Mexico's keeper is losing his nerve, isn't he?" Ron said.

"Their main keeper was knocked out last game," Charlie pointed out. "This is their backup. First year in any official leagues, apparently."

Mexico started to gain slightly, though they were still a hundred points behind when the game had been going on for over 45 minutes. It was the longest game Harry and the others had been to in the tournament.

"And Weasley's taking another goal," the announcer said. "Mexico has their work cut out keeping up with that one."

The next goal was Hoffman, then another by Ginny. England was up 300-90.

"They need to find the snitch already," Ron muttered, leaning against the rail of the box. Even if Mexico got the snitch at this point, England was in the finals. "Come on, come on!" he shouted.

The crowd went wild as the two seekers raced around the edges of the pitch side-by-side. "They found it!" Hermione shouted, but Harry never bothered watching the seekers when Ginny was playing.

Ginny had the Quaffle and was nearly to the hoops when several things happened at once. Ginny released the Quaffle, sending the past the keeper at the same time that the first bludger hit her outstretched shoulder. The whistle blew to indicate the snitch had been caught and the crowds cheered as the second heavy ball hit Ginny directly on the side of her head, throwing her into the violent spin.

Mrs. Weasley screamed and Harry gripped the rail, though the others had apparently been watching the battle of the seekers, because they all started asking what happened when they turned back to see Ginny falling from her broom and being surrounded by mediwizards, her body laid out on the field.

Harry could feel the blood pumping by his ears as he watched, waiting for them to bring Ginny up to a standing position. He couldn't tell if she had really been unconscious or if the mediwizards had surrounded her too soon to really see anything.

"We have to get down there, Arthur," Molly said frantically.

"Mum, calm down," Charlie directed her. "Ginny's been hit loads of times. They're always overly cautious."

Harry swallowed. "You didn't see how those hit," he said. He seemed to be the only one that didn't think Molly was overreacting. The others were all trying to calm her, telling her to sit and that, surely, Ginny would be flying the victory lap with her team in a moment. She had tears running down her face. "Come on, Mrs. Weasley," Harry finally said, grabbing her wrist from Ron and leading the way.

The others protested, but Harry and Molly were running down the steps past other spectators. "I'm sure they're right, she'll be fine," he said, though he felt short of breath.

When they got to the bottom level, they were stopped by security. "We're guests of a player," Harry said, showing his pass to them.

Before anyone decided whether they would be allowed through, a group of the mediwizards passed by, one with his wand out directing a stretcher with Ginny's lifeless body.

* * *

The healers all promised Ginny would heal alright. When it was safe, she was transferred back to St. Mungo's and was still unresponsive three days later, her head and shoulder wrapped up. Molly was there nearly around the clock, of course, and the others who had been there each took turns sitting with her. Molly was still angry with most of them for not listening, making her favoritism for Harry these days particularly punctuated.

"She didn't leave any of those cookies for us," Ron said, coming to sit with Harry by Ginny's bed. "Those are my favorite, too."

Harry handed over the cookie tin, letting him take one. Hermione came in with a large box, dropping it in front of her. "I need help stuffing these envelopes," she said.

"Isn't there a spell for that?" Ron asked.

"There's foil details that might be rubbed off if I do it that way," Hermione said, handing him a stack. "Ginny and I were going to do it together, but…" she didn't say because it was so painfully obvious with Ginny in the room with them. "After all the potions I would think she'd come around by now," Hermione said.

"They told us today that everything was looking fine," Ron told them. "They're considering taking the sling off. Said it's not doing much and that was mended early on anyway."

They all worked on the invitations to Ron and Hermione's wedding. It was only two months away and Hermione was getting into full stress mode. Even Ron rarely argued with her about her requests, no matter how tedious. He seemed to have learned this made for a happier Hermione.

"Has it been decided who England is playing against?" Hermione asked.

"New Zealand," Ron said. "They're having to use a reserve member. Or at least they're training them. That game is another three weeks away. Ginny needs to come out of it if England is going to stand a chance."

"Oh, as if that's why," Hermione snapped.

"That's not what he was saying, Hermione," Harry said, rolling his eyes. He knew Ron's concern about England was the best he could muster for getting emotional about Ginny's current condition. Certainly if Ginny were awake right now, she'd be fretting over the same thing, fighting the healers to get back to practice as soon as possible. Harry smiled a little at the scene playing in his mind.

"She'll come out of it soon," Ron said. "Though if it's not in the next couple days it might be best for it to wait until after the cup is over."

"That would be horrible," Hermione said. "I wouldn't let your mum hear you suggest that."

They talked of other things and Charlie brought them all back food from a nearby pub later in the evening. Molly came back, pushing everyone out of the way to sit right next to Ginny, grabbing her hand and stroking the back with her finger. Arthur came by as well, sharing news that the New Zealand team had apparently been caught in a scandal, using non-regulation snitches in their game and had been disqualified. "They'll be playing Finland, now," he said.

"Ginny predicted that Finland would be in the finals," Charlie said.

It was as though she finally responded to her name. Everyone froze as Ginny stretched back her shoulders, her face tightening as she took a deep breath.

"Arthur… Arthur, go get the healer on duty," Molly said anxiously.

Harry had been sitting at the foot of the bed, but pushed through so that he was on Ginny's other side, opposite Molly, leaning over Ginny.

"Ginny?" Molly said softly. She reached her free hand over, running the braid she'd put in Ginny's hair that morning through her fingers. "Ginny, sweetheart."

"Let her sit up, Mum," Ron said.

Molly shot him a nasty look, obviously not having forgotten the last time her husband and children were telling her what to do, but still gave Ginny a little more room. Ginny's body stiffened as she pulled her hand away from Molly's, scrambling until she was sitting up. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. She seemed alert as she looked around the room at the faces surrounding her bed.

"Dad's here too. He's coming right back," Charlie told her.

"Seriously, Ginny, you gave us a right scare," Ron told her.

Harry reached out a hand, to her back and her eyes met his, her eyebrows knit. "Glad to have you back in the land of the living," he said with a smile and leaned in, capturing her lips in his.

The hopeful mood shattered as Ginny tensed, her lips not responding to his, and pushed Harry back, screaming.

"Ginny," Ron said.

"Get off," she shouted, frantically pushing herself away from Harry on the bed. Harry stepped back, confused.

Molly reached out, trying to grab Ginny's shoulders and her reaction was similar. "No!" Ginny screamed hitting Molly's hands, shoving her away. "Don't! Leave me be!

A healer rushed in, an assistant with her. "Ms. Weasley," the healer said calmly. Harry looked to Molly who was horror struck as Ginny continued to struggle, the healer trying to press her down onto the bed.

"No, no," Ginny said, still in a panic. "Who are you?" she cried.

"Ms. Weasley, we are here to help."

"Don't touch me," she growled, fighting against their more firm attempts to reign her in. Hermione was in tears now and Harry was walking back to the other side of the room, though he couldn't tear his eyes away from Ginny. "Please, no, please!"

"Ms. Weasley, if you don't calm down we will have to sedate you," the healer warned.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed.

Harry finally pulled himself out of the room, running down the hall until he could see out the window, grasping onto the sill, breathing deeply, trying to calm himself. Her screams echoed down the hallway until the healer must have done something and the sound died out.

"Harry," Ron said. "Mate, it's gonna be alright. They have her sleeping again."

He turned around to see Ron and Hermione looking at him. Hermione was wiping away tears and Ron looked completely dumbstruck.

"She doesn't remember me," Harry said.


	2. Decisions

_**Decisions**_

Visitors were not allowed in Ginny's room for the next two days, though the whole group still waited in the lobby in case this changed. The healer on duty cowed down to an irate Molly the second day, allowing her in when Ginny was awake that afternoon, but she was brought out a few minutes later sobbing.

"S-she wouldn't let me n-near her," Molly sobbed into Arthur's chest.

Harry didn't know if it made him feel better or worse that Ginny didn't remember anyone else either.

He sat with Ron, George, Arthur, and Molly six days after Ginny had been hit by the bludger at the game. They were in a large office, the back wall lined with bookcases. The desk was a highly polished dark wood and they sat in large padded chairs. Arthur was pacing the room. Their meeting was supposed to have begun ten minutes before.

A brunette woman with bright pink lipstick and her hair in a high bun opened the door, her heels clicking on the tile as she rushed in. "I apologize for making you wait," she said with a friendly smile. "My name is Janae Moss," she introduced herself. Rather than sitting on the other side of the desk, she leaned against the edge, making herself part of their own circle rather than separate from it. Harry thought it was an interesting tactic.

"My name is Arthur, this is my wife Molly," Arthur said. Janae nodded at each of them. "These are our sons, George and Ron, and this is Ginny's fiance, Harry."

Janae looked at Harry for a moment longer than the others. At first he expected her eyes to raise to his forehead, but they didn't. She wasn't looking at the famous Harry Potter. She was looking at him. Ginny's fiance.

"Well, I've been in touch with the healers and done some initial observation," Janae said. "I know this is a difficult situation, but believe it or not, you are not in a worse case scenario."

Harry immediately wanted to shout at her that the woman he loved had no idea who he was. How was that not a worse case scenario? He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from acting on the impulse.

"The truth, though, is that memory loss is a difficult problem to treat. Every person is different—from what they have forgotten, to how to bring those memories back, or even if those memories will come back."

"What happens if they don't?" Molly asked.

Janae crossed her arms and cleared her throat. "The advice I will dispense on that point applies to both the best course of action if she doesn't remember, but is also a best practice for how to interact with Ginny until she does. Every relationship we have is based on memories, but it is more importantly set into the interactions we have in the present."

"What do you mean?" George asked, leaning forward on his knees.

"Well, when you're with an old friend and you share an inside joke, you're pulling on this long history you have with one another. But at some point that history didn't exist, right?"

Harry nodded, as did the others.

"When someone loses their memory to this extent, the impulse is to run them around in circles telling them about everything in the past when they don't even know what they are to you right now. Focus on the right now."

"What about her immediate needs?" Arthur asked. "She won't let any of us come near her, but she can't possibly live on her own right now."

"I have a meeting with her in," Janae leaned over, flipping through a day planner, "an hour. I will be discussing Ginny's options with her, but her healer and I both believe she needs to be under supervision. That may mean she stays at St. Mungos in the long term care ward—"

"No," Harry said and Janae stopped, looking at him. Heat rose up his neck. "She isn't insane."

"I think you may misunderstand, Harry," Janae said. "It would not be the permanent ward, but an assisted living space. She would have her own room and be more or less independent." She turned towards the whole group again. "As I said, supervision is important, but we want her to make the decisions where possible. That includes where to live. I would like to know what her options are in living with family so I can present her with those during our meeting."

Janae grabbed a quill from her desk and a notepad. "Well she has a room at home," Arthur said and Molly nodded. "We did already collect her things from her flat in Wales."

"Alright, that's one choice," Janae said. "Where else?"

"What about with me?" George suggested.

"You aren't going to have time to take care of her if it's needed," Molly said. "The shop is always busy."

"I can make the time."

"What type of shop?" Janae asked.

"Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes," George replied. "I have a large flat on the top floor."

"Ah! Of course," Janae said with a smile. "I should have realized. My ten year old is quite a fan of your fake wands. Well… I will admit it may be a slightly less stable living arrangement, living above a shop, but I can present it should she turn other options down if that's alright?"

George nodded.

"Bill said he's got space for her," Ron said. "And Hermione and I can always have her live with us."

"You're about to be married," Molly said. "You two need time to settle yourselves."

"What about my place?" Harry asked.

The others all looked at him. Molly and Arthur exchanged a nervous glance. "Harry, dear—"

"Why not?" Harry asked. "She was going to move in last year anyway. I have Krecher to help out. And we are engaged."

Janae licked her lips. "There is… a specific dynamic in your situation Harry. I don't know that it is best to place those kinds of expectations onto Ginny until she's ready for it."

"She's _my_ fiance," Harry snapped.

"Harry, now's not a good time," Ron warned him, looking over.

He glared at Ron wanting to yell at him. He wanted to shout that him and Ginny were in this together and that he was the one who could care for her best. Instead he swallowed it back.

"Are there any other family members who would like to be included on that list?" Janae asked quietly when she spoke again.

"Percy will want to be considered," Ron said. "Charlie's too far away and too busy."

Janae added Percy's name to the list. "Great," she said. "This is a good start. I will have a discussion with Ginny about what she would like to do and then we will arrange a time where we can have a sort of… re-introduction. Make sure Ginny is comfortable with those she will be around."

Janae finished the meeting with a list of books she suggested and talked about triggers that could cause upset. Harry only half listened. They were a solemn group as they left the office, heading out to the street. "It's like we lost another child, Arthur," Molly said. He wrapped an arm around her and kissed her head.

 _No_ , Harry refuted what she said in her mind. _No, she isn't lost._

* * *

Ginny walked around the office looking at the pictures on the wall. Natalie brought her here. Natalie was one of the only healers that she really trusted. Natalie had never forced her to lay back down, never done a spell on her, and snuck her a cookie at each meal. Even breakfast. She called her Ginny, but she didn't try and tell her things she should remember.

"Janae is very nice," Natalie told her. "You'll like her, I promise."

Ginny hoped she was right. She still wasn't sure why they wouldn't let her go. It made her anxious, like she had done something wrong and no one would tell her what.

The door opened and a woman came through. "Hello, Ginny!" she said. "I'm Janae, how are you today?"

Ginny looked at her skeptically. "Is anyone else coming?" Ginny asked. All those people who were in her room… someone said she knew them, but Ginny didn't recognize their faces. Then that strange man kissed her. She twisted the ring on her finger. The red haired woman told her yesterday she was engaged and that the ring was proof. Ginny didn't know whether to believe that or to chuck the little golden object into the bin, so she sat for hours, turning it around and around.

"No, it's just you and me today," Janae said with a smile. She sat in one of the armchairs. "Would you like to come talk?"

Ginny looked around the office again and nodded. She stepped over, still fiddling with the ring, and sat in the chair opposite Janae. "So… you're supposed to fix me?"

"Oh, I don't like to use the word _fix_ , Ginny," she said. "You aren't broken."

"But… I don't remember... I can't…"

"Do you feel well?" Janae asked.

Ginny thought about this and nodded.

"Do you have any broken bones that we need the healers to mend?"

"I don't think so," Ginny said.

"Then you aren't broken," Janae said with certainty. "As for the rest, we will be dealing with that as it comes, alright?"

Ginny nodded. Natalie was right. She did like Janae, if for no other reason than she hadn't started with the list of facts about herself that Ginny had expected to be thrown at her.

"Why don't we start by you telling me what you do remember," Janae suggested. She leaned forward on the arm of the chair as though Ginny's answer would be fascinating.

"I know m-my name's Ginny," she said.

"And how do you know that?"

Ginny thought about this. "It's what everyone keeps calling me."

Janae smiled. "That's as good a reason as any. Anything else?"

Ginny tried to sort through what everyone kept telling her and what she actually knew. What did she know? She knew she'd been in a hospital since she woke up. She knew there were people that wanted to see her. She knew she'd forgotten something. Lots of somethings, really. None of those bits of knowledge seemed pertinent. She shook her head.

"Well, you remember your name. That's something," Janae said. "The best way to remember anything else is to get you back to your life as normally as possible. Surround you with people who care about you and your welfare, most importantly. But also, those people can provide little points in your life that can start to make connections."

"Like… reminders?"

"Exactly," Janae said. "Each person or thing or event is like a little memo in your mind that makes connections. The more of those memos you come across, the more likely you will remember things."

"Okay," Ginny said. "Where do I live?"

"Well that is actually up to you," Janae said excitedly.

"Where did I live before? Can I go back there?"

"Well, no," Janae said. "From what I have been told, you lived in a flat with the Holyhead Harpies."

"The Quidditch team?" Ginny asked.

"Yes," Janae said. "You were quite a good player, actually. My son's a real fan."

The way Janae smiled eased the idea, but Ginny still wasn't sure what to think of that. Someone else had told Janae where she had lived. Maybe Janae didn't know much of anything, in reality. "So… I can't go back there?"

"Well, I suppose we could reach out and ask, but there are better places, I think. The healers would prefer if you took time off and rested. From what I've read Quidditch training schedules don't allow much rest."

"Then where?"

"Your parents would be very happy to have you," Janae said.

"That's… the red haired woman?" Ginny asked. Janae nodded. "She's really my mum?"

Janae seemed to consider her question for a while, not answering right away. "I can tell you that, but I have a feeling others have already done so. Who are you worried she actually is?"

"I don't know," Ginny said. "It's just… how do you forget who your mum is?" She felt a swell of emotion fill her chest. Maybe that's what bothered her so much. She knew what was wrong, but she just couldn't figure out how it could have happened. It seemed absolutely impossible.

"That is a really good question," Janae conceded. "In complete honesty, no one knows. I can point you to a dozen theories and books and articles and you would have to conclude that it makes no sense how someone can forget something so central to who they are. But if you have doubts, there are charms and spells that can be performed that will show you proof."

Ginny thought of this. She shook her head. "If you tell me they're my parents, then I'll believe you."

"Thank you," Janae said. "That means a lot that you would trust me."

Ginny wondered for a moment if it was foolish to trust anyone at this point. She'd practically been a prisoner. Even before being transported here they had performed a charm to keep her with her escort from St. Mungo's to the office. But Janae didn't just tell her things. She provided better answers than just information she had to believe as it was said. "I think… I think living with my parents seems like it would be good, right? I mean… I lived with them at some point."

Janae nodded with a smile. "I think it would be a great place to live. Your parents seem like very kind people."

"So I live with them and… wait to see if I remember?"

"If it's alright by you, I'd like to meet with you once or twice a week. Help give you tools to make remembering easier. Most of my clients I travel to, so we can do it here, or I can visit you at home."

"Maybe," Ginny said. "Yes, I… I think that would be alright."

"Well, then we just need to decide when you'd like to move in," Janae said happily.

* * *

Natalie helped Ginny get together a bag of her things the next afternoon, making her eat a sandwich for lunch. Ginny gripped the edge of her bed. Janae said her parents would meet with her and take her home. "They're taking me home on a bus?" she asked again.

Natalie nodded. "The Knight Bus."

"But… it's early afternoon."

Natalie chuckled. "Knight… like… knight in shining armor."

"Oh," Ginny said. She squeezed the mattress again. "That sounds familiar… I think."

"You've probably been on it a fair few times, but maybe not," Natalie said. "A lot would prefer floo or portkey."

Ginny knew floo, but not portkey for some reason. She asked Natalie.

"It's an object with a spell that will take you somewhere specific if you just touch it," she said.

Ginny had found herself asking Natalie more and more about little things that she didn't know. She wondered if her parents would be so easy to ask. There was an assistant on the night shifts that would give Ginny a strange look when she'd ask something like how brooms worked or if she'd gone to Hogwarts. Ginny stopped asking after a couple of these looks. The frustration she felt from the reaction wasn't worth the answers.

There was a knock at her hospital door. "Come in," Ginny said.

Janae opened the door, smiling. "Are you ready, Ginny?" she asked.

Ginny swallowed and nodded. Janae had spent the rest of their time together talking about what this moment might be like. Her parents would probably want to hug her. Janae asked her if she would be alright with this. Ginny said maybe. It seemed an odd thing to have to give permission for. Janae told her she didn't have to want that right away and that she was sure that whenever Ginny felt the desire they would certainly reciprocate. Janae also said there would be lots of others who would likely want to show their affection and help. She had brothers, apparently. Lots of them. Janae said her parents informed her they had family dinners every few weeks. One of her brothers didn't live close enough, but there would still be a crowd of people. "You don't have to stay anywhere you don't feel comfortable," Janae reassured her. "If there are too many people, you should kindly excuse yourself. No one will think any less."

The potential crowd also included her fiance. Yes, she had a fiance, Janae said. She told Ginny she knew it was a hard thing to accept this and that she was allowed to set whatever boundaries she wanted.

Ginny reminded herself of these little rules Janae gave her. The number one rule: share what she was thinking. Ginny didn't know if she could do that. It was easy enough with Natalie and Janae, but what if she couldn't find the words with her parents?

She walked to the door and Janae ushered her into the hallway. Her parents stood there. They looked unsure. Her mother shifted her weight from one foot to another, her father tried to smile, though his eyes looked too serious for it to have a softening effect. "Ginny, did you need anything from me before you go home with your parents?"

"What are their names?" Ginny asked abruptly. She suddenly realized she should have asked this before. Maybe the sound of their names, like floo, would be familiar.

Janae smiled and nodded towards them. "I would bet that's a question they could answer."

Ginny felt her cheeks warm as she turned back to them. "What… I'm sorry," she closed her eyes and shook her head. "I don't remember... "

"Molly and Arthur, dear," Molly said with a strained smile. She didn't reach out for a hug, but held out her hand, touching Ginny's cheek. Ginny felt a similar panic to that first night, like Molly intended to latch on and not let go, but her hand was soft and gentle and Ginny tried to smile back.

"Oh, right," Ginny said. Their names weren't familiar.

"Let me take that for you, Ginny," Arthur said, reaching out for Ginny's bag. "We have your room all set up, unless you'd like to change it of course."

Ginny nodded and turned to Janae to say goodbye. The woman smiled approvingly and reached in for a hug. Ginny fell into her arms and gripped her like an anchor. "I will be by on Monday. That's just three days. If you need me before then, send an owl."

"Okay, thanks," Ginny said and pulled back. Her mother reached out to grab her hand and Ginny found it easiest to just hold on as she walked with her. Arthur stepped behind them, carrying her bag and they walked out to the street. Arthur held out his wand hand and the bus came.

"Would you like the window seat, dear?" Molly asked.

"Sure," Ginny said, following Arthur onto the bus as he handed the conductor some money.

* * *

Friday and Saturday passed in a roller coaster of emotions for Ginny. She'd have to ask all sorts of questions that she knew she should know—like where to find the loo and if she was allowed to spend time in the garden—but then other times her parents would try and show her something that she remembered just fine.

"This is the wireless if you'd like to listen to anything," Molly told her. "This dial here—"

Irritated, Ginny reached out and tuned it easily. "I know that," she said. Molly paused and bit her bottom lip.

"Oh, good," she said. Ginny could practically hear the accusation in the way she said it. _You can remember how to work a wireless, but you can't remember me._ "Very well. Is there anything else I can help you with, dear?" she asked.

Ginny shook her head. She sat in the living room for a while, then would move up to her room, laying on her bed with nothing to do. It was almost worse than being at the hospital. She went down for meals and her father would talk about what he read in the newspaper, handing over the Daily Prophet. She snatched it quickly, reading each title of the articles. For some reason this struck her as a real possibility for understanding, if not herself, then at least what was happening around her.

On Sunday morning, Ginny got up well after the sun, brushing out her hair and changing her clothes. Downstairs, her mum had made pancakes and bacon. There was someone else at the table. A redhead. Janae had told her all her brothers had red hair. "Hey Ginny," he said with a smile.

"Hi," she said, sitting down across from him at the table.

"This is Ron," Molly said, bringing over two plates, setting one down in front of each of them. "He is your brother. Just older than you."

Ginny nodded, and smiled at Ron. He beamed back. It didn't hold the same barely veiled concern her father's had that first day and she breathed out easily, relaxing as he handed her the syrup.

"How's it being back here?" Ron asked.

"It's good," Ginny said.

Molly smiled and poured Ron a glass of orange juice first, then Ginny. Seeing this made Ginny actually feel a little kinder towards her mother. The last two days she thought she had done this as part of her fluttering around an incapable Ginny. Maybe she just did this with everyone.

"Where's Hermione, Ron," Molly asked.

"She's spending the day with her parents," Ron said, his mouth half full. "Some sort of decorations… decisions… something."

"Who's Hermione?" Ginny asked Ron.

"She's my fiance," Ron told her, shoving a piece of bacon in his mouth. "We're getting married in September."

Natalie had helped Ginny get reoriented with when it was. September… this month was July, then August ("That right there is your birthday," Natalie said, pointing to the 11th), then September.

"Two months?" Ginny asked.

"Yup," Ron said. "And Hermione's on a bit of a rampage, so I just try and stay out of her way when I'm not needed."

Ginny smiled and ate her pancakes. Ron asked for seconds and for the first time since coming home Ginny finished off everything Molly had put on her plate.

"You know, I haven't really gotten to play any Quidditch for a while," Ron said. "You wanna go outside and toss a Quaffle around with me?"

Molly stopped cleaning the dishes and looked at the two of them. "Ron, I don't know if Ginny should strain herself like that."

Something had lit up inside Ginny when Ron suggested going outside, then she deflated at how Molly shut it down. She swallowed back her disappointment.

Ron seemed unconcerned by the dissent, however. He screwed up his face and mimicked Molly behind her back. Ginny smiled a little. "How about it?" he asked.

Ginny took a breath and nodded. "Yeah," Ginny said. "I don't… remember how it's played exactly."

"You'll pick up on it," Ron said and they both stood.

Molly was looking worried as they walked out the kitchen door and into the garden area, but she didn't stop them. Walking through tall grass they made their way to a shed and Ron opened it up, pulling out two brooms, handing one of them to Ginny, then reaching in for a ball. "Mum is a little crazy, by the way," Ron said. "Not sure if anyone's told you."

"Crazy how?" Ginny asked.

"Well, not traditionally crazy," Ron clarified. "Like she isn't addled, but she'd probably build us each our own house on this property and force us to live nearby so she could make sure nothing bad ever happened to any of us, if she could. Mad as Merlin's pants sometimes."

Ginny genuinely laughed at this. It felt good to laugh. It wasn't something she'd done with Natalie or Janae. They made her feel sane and didn't look at her sadly if she didn't remember something, but Ron… there was something different she liked about him. They made their way to an open field with two sets of hoops, one set at each end.

"We used to have random baskets at each end," Ron said. "Our brother George bought proper hoops for us to play a few years ago."

"Janae told me I played for the Harpies," Ginny said.

"Yup," Ron replied. "But you always told people that it was me that taught you everything you know about Quidditch."

The way he said it, with a chipper sort of assurance, made Ginny stop and narrow her eyes. "Really?" she asked.

"Not out loud," Ron said with a joking smile. "But it's what you were thinking I'm sure."

Ginny smiled back. Ron set the Quaffle down and straddled his broom. Ginny followed his lead, stretching her fingers around the broom handle.

"No crashing either," Ron instructed. "Otherwise Mum might not let you out of the house again for years."

"How do I do it?" Ginny asked him.

"Just bend your knees and," Ron bent slightly, pushing off against the ground, "off you go!" He zoomed around a bit and Ginny just watched. "Keep your balance by grounding yourself. Use the foot holds and take your time."

Ginny nodded. She closed her eyes and kicked off, struggling to place her feet when she was up in the air for a moment. She hovered in one spot as Ron circled around her. A sensation tingled just beneath her skin. She felt lighter than she had since waking up. Maybe lighter than she had ever felt in her whole life. She took slow turns around the field and Ron would cross her path from time to time. Eventually he took up to riding just beside her. He didn't look worried for her, though. Instead, he was lining up beside her like a challenge. Ginny smiled and pressed forward on her broom, picking up speed. They raced around like this, Ron taking the lead occasionally, but mostly Ginny edged in front of him.

"Merlin, Ginny," Ron said. "Here I was thinking I'd have to catch you at least once."

"So how do you play?" Ginny asked, excited.

Ron explained the game to her. They didn't have any beaters, of course, or a seeker. "I always played keeper," he told her. "And we can just shoot back and forth. Try and make it through the hoops."

"Okay," Ginny said. Ron dove down to the ground, grabbing the Quaffle. They did a couple tosses back and forth, then Ginny moved forward, shooting for a hoop. It went through, but Ron hadn't been trying to block.

Ron dove down and got the Quaffle. She shot again, this time he caught it and threw it back out to her. She did a lap around the field, then came to the hoops. She zoomed up, tossing the ball down through the middle hoop.

"Alright, that's it," Ron said. "I'm not going easy on you anymore."

Ginny didn't know how long they continued playing, but Ron growled with each goal and she would laugh at his upset. She also started to think that maybe Janae had been right. She had been good at this. It felt so right holding the Quaffle and being in the air. She was winded as they landed. "I don't want to go back in yet," she said trying to catch her breath.

"Okay," Ron said, he collapsed into the grass and Ginny followed, sitting opposite him.

She asked him about playing on the Harpies. How long she played for them, if she liked her teammates, how she liked Wales. Anything that came to mind came pouring from her lips. This bled into questions about the house and their parents. Things she had wondered, then bit back because she didn't want to see that heartbroken look on her mum's face.

"We were close?" Ginny finally asked Ron.

"Yeah," Ron said. "We were the youngest, so we always did a lot of things together."

"Like playing Quidditch?"

"No, we were real jackasses about that," Ron said. "We would say you were too little to play. You'd sneak our brooms when we weren't looking. Go figure you'd be the best of us in the end. Proved us all idiots."

Ginny smiled and looked up, watching the clouds drift by. Her thoughts were like those clouds, moving across her mind slowly, floating there, wispy and disconnected. "What do you do?"

"For work you mean?" Ron asked.

"Yeah."

"I work in the Auror department at the Ministry of Magic." Ginny gave him a look and he propped himself up on his elbows. "I basically find bad wizards and send them to Azkaban."

"The prison," Ginny said.

"Yeah, exactly," Ron said.

"Where Sirius was."

Ron didn't say anything for a second. "Yeah, that's right," Ron said.

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, but Ron laid back, watching the skies again.

"Is Mum mad that I don't remember?" she asked.

"No," Ron said. "She's just sad you have to go through this."

"I don't want to make anyone sad," Ginny said.


	3. Photographic Memory

**_Photographic Memory_**

Harry apparated to the garden of The Burrow and sat on the fence gathering his thoughts. Janae Moss sent the Weasleys a list of directives and Ron had copied the list, giving it to Harry at work. The instructions included to wait for Ginny to ask questions herself, to let her lead interactions. They weren't supposed to tell her about herself, even. It included not telling her about things they had done together or things she liked.

Above all else, the instructions told them to act normal. Normal for Harry, though, was to stride in, pick Ginny up, spin her around, and kiss her, regardless of who was watching. It was to sit next to her, his hand wrapped around her lower thigh and whispering things into her ear. It was normal, Harry thought, to sneak off to the swimming pond for a little time alone. All these normal things, for him, were off limits.

Molly sent an owl to him the day before, insisting he should still come to family dinner. Harry could only picture Ginny's face after she'd pushed him off of her at St. Mungo's—full of terror. He took a deep breath, putting his hands in his pockets.

Slowly, he approached the kitchen door, reached out for the handle and turned it apprehensively. When he opened the door he saw Ron and Ginny at the table over a game of chess.

"No, no," Ron told her. "Bishop moves at a diagonal, Ginny."

"Oh, right, you said that," she gasped, setting back the piece she'd just had in her hand.

Ginny looked like herself. Harry half expected to see her looking pale or flushed, like she had some kind of flu bug. Instead, she was smiling wide, her hair pulled back into a ponytail out of her face. She was wearing a purple shirt Harry remembered because when Ginny bought it a few months back, she used it as an excuse to see him just so she could brag about how she found it on sale.

Ginny laughed at something Ron said, then looked up and all the happiness drained from her face as her eyes met Harry's. He looked down.

"Oh Harry, you're early!" Molly said, rushing over and giving him a large hug. She kept an arm around him as they walked over to the table. Ginny wasn't looking at him anymore and she hadn't returned to smiling and laughing.

"Ginny, this is my best friend, Harry," Ron introduced him.

Harry wanted to correct him. He wanted to tell her that while that may be true, he was something more. He was hers. But Ron gave Harry a look—one that basically said _go with it—_ and Ginny looked up again. She forced a small grin. "Hi, Ginny," Harry said.

"Hi," Ginny said. They said nothing for several awkward moments.

"Come on, Ginny, don't leave me waiting here," Ron complained. "Go ahead and make your move so I can win."

The tension broke as Ginny rolled her eyes in a very Ginny way. "You wish," she said.

Harry sat next to Ron, becoming a third wheel through at least half a dozen turns before Ron called out checkmate.

"Ron, Harry," Molly said. "I think it's time for the tables to be set up in the gardens. Then set up the plates, if you could."

"Doesn't Ginny have to do anything?" Ron asked, miffed. Harry looked over at him, confused at why Ron was picking now to have a beef over whether or not Ginny was assigned chores.

"That is not your concern," Molly snapped. "Out! Do what you're told, Ronald."

Ron muttered something about favorites and Ginny spoke up. "I want to help, Mum," she said.

Molly stopped chopping vegetables and turned to Ginny, who looked earnestly at her. Ron held the door open and Harry heard Molly say, "well, if you'd like to come help with the salad."

"What was that about?" Harry asked Ron, pulling out his wand as they went around the side of the house, where the long tables were kept.

Ron shrugged. "She seems to get a kick out of me complaining to Mum," Ron said.

They each took one of the tables to the garden. Ron conjured the tablecloths and a stack of plates. Harry grabbed half, taking them around to the different settings. "I think I made a mistake coming," Harry said.

"No, mate, you're part of the family too," Ron said. "Ginny needs to see you."

Harry couldn't help but think that Ginny didn't seem to need anything from him. "What have you been up to all day here?"

"Ginny and I went out to our little pitch area," Ron said. "Harry, she's got flying in her blood."

Harry could have told him that. "So she remembered that?"

"Yeah, or she just picked back up real quick. Muscle memory or something."

"Did she mention me at all?"

Ron sighed and rubbed at one of his eyebrows. "Look, she didn't mention much of anyone. She's real confused right now."

Harry nodded. He almost wished he'd joined them. Ron and him had talked at work whether it would be better or worse and decided on the latter.

"She remembered Sirius," Ron said.

Harry froze and looked over. "You mean you mentioned Sirius—"

"No, Harry," Ron replied. "I was telling her about work and explaining what I do… I mentioned Azkaban and she asked if that's where Sirius had been."

"So her memory's coming back?"

"I don't know about all that," Ron said. "But at least she's not as blank as slate as we thought, maybe."

Harry didn't know what good it was that she remembered Sirius. Only… she only knew about Sirius because of him right? The Weasley's knew Sirius because he was Harry's godfather. Yes, he was in the Order as well, but Harry couldn't help but feel hope that there was a connection to him there.

The other Weasley's showed up in a steady stream. Harry was glad to see they didn't know quite how to talk to Ginny either. Each was in a varying degree of awkwardness in their attempts. Hermione did fairly well, but she mostly hung on Ron's arm and Ginny seemed to like her because the two were set up as a pair. In fact, Ron was the only one Ginny really talked to openly. She'd give short answers to questions posed to her, but Ron would say something sarcastic and she'd comment back. In those comments, she was almost herself.

The only other person that got a real response from her was little Victoire. Bill tried to whisper something in her ear as Victoire pulled out of his hand, running up to Ginny when they arrived.

"Aunt Gin," Victoire said, up on her tiptoes, hands hanging on Ginny's lap.

Ginny turned, stiffening the same way she did when the others leaned in to hug her. The shock melted into concentration. "Hi," Ginny said.

"Aunt Gin, let's color," Victoire said, crawling onto Ginny's lap, settling herself in.

"Victoire, we talked about this. Don't bother your Aunt Gin," Bill said gently.

"No," Ginny said. "I-it's okay."

Bill smiled at Ginny, pulling out his wand, providing crayons and pages for Victoire.

Harry stole glances, watching as Ginny's body softened, her arms reaching around Victoire, who shoved a crayon in her hand. "You draw me and I draw you," she instructed.

"Alright," Ginny agreed, using her left hand to hold the paper still. That's when Harry noticed the engagement ring. His stomach leaped, then sank, unsure of what it meant that she still had it on.

Harry looked over to Molly, who had stopped, watching the little scene and dabbing the corners of her eyes with her apron, some kind of bowl in her hand. Arthur came up next to her, grabbing the bowl and leaning over, whispering something in her ear. Molly nodded, Arthur kissed the top of her head, and she turned to go back inside.

Arthur noticed Harry watching and walked over by him, setting down the dish. "We have a new rule," Arthur said. "No crying in front of Ginny."

"Was it happening that much?" Harry asked.

"It was worse before she came home," Arthur explained. "The first day was pretty rocky, too."

"Ginny seems to be doing better," Harry noted.

"I'd like to think so."

Molly came out a few minutes later with a basket of bread. "Everyone sit. George, put this down at the other end," she demanded to everyone.

Harry wasn't quick enough as George took one side of Ginny and Ron already had the other. He sat across from Hermione instead, diagonally from Ginny. Victoire was called by Fleur to sit near them on the other end of the table. Dinner passed fairly well. Hermione was telling Ron about her day with her parents and Ginny seemed interested in the conversation about the wedding.

George didn't talk much, pushing the food around his plate, and Percy and Arthur were engaged in their own conversation. Harry kept trying to come up with something to talk with Ginny about—funny things that happened at work or how he was making a trip to Diagon Alley in a couple days if she wanted to come—but nothing seemed to stick as a good choice. He'd swallow it back in pumpkin juice and found himself waiting out the rest of the night.

"Hey, Ginny," George said, turning towards her.

She was nearly relaxed at last, taking a bite of a bread roll. "I brought some things to show you."

George pulled out a stack of photographs from the pocket of his robes. Ron was distracted, talking with Hermione and Molly about something to do with the wedding, and Harry seemed to be the only one listening in. Ginny took the photos. Harry caught glimpses of them as she shuffled through.

"That's the day you started at the shop the summer after you graduated from school," George said. "You were there for the summer. And that! That one is when we got into an amazing snowball fight your second year. There were at least fifty people shooting snow across the lawn. And this here," George reached in, helping to shuffle the images but Ginny dropped the whole stack on the table. Her body was tense again and she pushed back her chair.

"Ginny?" Molly asked. "You alright sweetheart?"

"I'm fine," she said, standing.

George looked worried, watching her. "Ginny, I didn't mean to—"

"I'm fine," she repeated louder, her voice getting shaky as she made her way around the end of the tables.

Arthur stood, cutting her off. "Your mum is about to bring out a cake," he said, trying for an easy tone and failing. "Carrot, your favorite." Ginny stopped, still stiff and looking away, refusing to make eye contact with her dad, even though he was bending his head in an attempt to look at her.

"Let her go if she wants," Ron said.

Arthur reached out, holding Ginny's arms, affectionately moving his hands up and down in an attempt to calm her. "You've had such a nice day with everyone, Ginny. We were going to go play a card game after this."

Ginny's eyes filled with tears. Harry wanted to jump from the table and go wrap her up in his arms. He gripped the sides of his chair to keep himself from it.

"She doesn't have to," Ron said.

"You don't want cake, sweetheart?" Molly asked.

"No," she shouted, tears falling. "I don't want any bloody cake!"

Everyone froze, silent. "Aunt Gin said a bad word," Victoire said in awe.

Ginny wrapped her arms around herself and ran into the house, leaving everyone else in silence.

"Why couldn't you all just let her be," Ron shouted, standing and throwing down his napkin, stalking into the house as well.

* * *

Ginny pounded up the steps and into her room, digging her face into a pillow. She tried to make the images go away. She hated this… she hated seeing something that proved she didn't know herself. She cried, half expecting someone to try to come talk to her. No one came.

Ginny sat up and leaned against the wall. She looked around her room. She wondered how she hadn't noticed all the pictures hanging on the walls. A couple were just posters, but as she looked at the frames she noticed a lot of them had her in them. Her with a blonde girl wearing a necklace of bottle caps. Her with a black boy hanging around her neck. Her with a group of people on brooms wearing green robes. She choked up, her eyes filling with tears again. She grabbed one of the frames off the wall and threw it to the wooden floor at her feet. She grabbed one with her and Hermione, throwing that one as well. Her, George, and Percy. Her in Harry's arms. Her between her parents. Glass shattered. Ginny reached for another, pausing. Ron was in this one. He was making a face, then smiling over at her, then screwing up his face again. Ginny was as well, but she concentrated on Ron's face. She set this one down on the night stand, sinking down to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees and crying.

She'd gotten all her tears out before there was a knock on her door. "Ginny?" Ron's voice came from the hall. "I didn't want to bother you, but Victoire really wants to say goodbye if you're up for it."

Ginny rubbed at her eyes, wiping the residual tears. "Come in," she said.

Ron opened the door, smiling as he held Victoire's hand. He looked around the room and paused. "Wait right here, Victoire," he instructed. "What happened? Ginny, you're bleeding," he said.

Ginny looked down at her hand. She hadn't even noticed. "I broke those," she said and Ron looked in the middle of the room where her eyes were set. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Ron said. He pulled out his wand and waved it over the mess. The glass disappeared and the stack of frames flew into his hands. "You don't want these ones?"

Ginny felt a lump in her chest again as she shook her head back and forth.

Ron knelt in front of her, wrapping one hand around her neck as she buried her face in her hands. "I feel insane," she sobbed.

"Yeah, but you're not as mad as Merlin's pants yet, so it's not so bad," Ron said. Ginny choked out a little laugh and Ron kissed her forehead. He pulled back and took her hand, touching it with his wand and the cuts closed, the blood disappeared. "Can Victoire come in? I can tell her no, if you'd rather."

"No, that's fine," Ginny said, wiping away her tears.

"Come on in, Victoire," Ron called her.

Ginny smiled as Victoire ran into the room, throwing her arms around Ginny's neck. Ginny hugged her back, closing her eyes as she held the little girl—her niece—in her arms. Victoire pulled back and put a hand on either side of Ginny's face, squeezing her cheeks and looking seriously into Ginny's eyes. "It's okay you don't remember, Aunt Gin," she said. "I'll remember for you."

Victoire kissed Ginny on the lips and then hopped down, running out the door again.

"I was thinking I could come play Quidditch again tomorrow afternoon if you're up to it," Ron suggested.

"Yeah," Ginny said. "Yeah that sounds good."

Ron smiled. "Okay, see you tomorrow."

* * *

Ron came back downstairs with Victoire, who ran to Fleur. "I'll be home in a bit," Bill said, leaning over and giving Fleur a kiss, then leaning down to give another to Victoire. Fleur threw some floo into the fire and entered with her daughter.

Everyone sat around the livingroom. Ron set down the stack of frames, explaining what had happened, and went to stand by Hermione, massaging her shoulders. Arthur paced the room and George leaned on his knees, rubbing his forehead.

"So no pictures," Percy said. "Though I thought _that_ would have been obvious."

"Look, I didn't know it would set her off," George snapped defensively.

"The list said to not tell her things about herself," Arthur said.

"Like telling her to stick around for her favorite cake?" Bill said. Arthur let out a breath, not bothering to refute the accusation that he had broken that rule as well.

Harry sat back on the couch, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I didn't know that included pictures," George said.

"It includes everything, you prat," Ron said.

"Easy for you to say," George shot back at Ron. "How long before she was acting normal with you?"

Everyone else had noticed how much happier Ginny seemed with Ron, even if just for a few moments. It was why Ron was sent upstairs with Victoire when she threw a tantrum about saying goodbye to Ginny. "George has a point," Harry said.

Ron rolled his eyes, but it was Hermione who came to his defense. "Maybe if any of you had read what Janae suggested, Ginny would warm up to you too."

"Not all of us have a girlfriend feeding us a study guide," George said.

Hermione turned pink. "I haven't read them, for your information. Not yet," she clarified. "I haven't had a chance. Ron went out and bought the books and has been through four of them already."

Everyone went quiet at this. Ron turned red at the gawking looks aimed his direction.

"Well that does it. I know this must be a bad dream now," George said. "Because it's been less than a week and Ron's read—"

"Oh, sod off!" Ron said.

"Not one more snide comment from any of you," Molly said sternly. "We need to figure out how to help Ginny."

Arthur sat on the arm of Molly's chair. "It looks like we have the expert here," Arthur said, with far less sarcasm than George. "What do you think Ron? What do we need to do?"

"Well for starters, stop looking at her like she's sprouted an extra arm."

"Ron, no one's doing that," Percy said.

"Yes you are," Ron said. "Janae said _act normal_. Why didn't you ask her to set the table, Mum?"

"She needs time to settle in."

"She's already settled," Ron replied. "Ginny can tell you're handling her like a China Doll and it's driving her batty, Mum. And that's nothing to the sympathetic glances from everyone else. It's like you're at her damn funeral."

"We're just trying to process this," Bill said. "We're all grappling with it."

"What about what she's grappling with?" Ron turned to Bill. Harry never thought he'd see Ron shoot that much anger towards his oldest brother. Bill and Ron had always been on good terms. "Yeah, I get it. No one wants to take advice from the family idiot. Fine. You ready to go Hermione?"

"Ron," she said, exasperated.

Ron didn't try to convince her and he didn't look hurt by her reluctance. He simply leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I'll see you back home, then." He turned and walked out the front door, leaving a shocked and silent room behind him.

"Hermione?" Harry finally asked.

"What?"

"Can I borrow some of those books?"

* * *

Ginny rubbed her eyes as she woke in the morning, pushing herself up and sitting on the edge of her bed. She yawned and looked to her right. The pictures—the ones she hadn't thrown in her fit—were all gone. She looked down at the nightstand and her heart raced. The picture of her and Ron had been taken too. She looked through her drawers, wondering if someone had just put it away, but there was nothing.

She could feel her pulse in her temples as she flung her door open and flew down the steps to the first floor.

"Yes, well, some people benefit from photographs, so you can't blame anyone for trying," Janae said as Ginny entered the kitchen.

Ginny barely registered her presence as she looked at her mother.

"Ginny, what's wr—"

"Where's my picture?" she demanded.

"I don't—"

"My picture… Ron and me," she snapped. Ginny breathed heavily, trying to rope in her emotions. "I want my picture back! What did you do with it?"

Molly moved forward, trying to put a hand to Ginny's cheek. "We knew they upset you, so we—"

"I want my picture!" she yelled, swiping at her mother's hand, tears fogging her vision. "You had no right!... You shouldn't have!... It's mine!"

"Okay, Ginny, okay," Molly said, looking worried. "Which picture, love?"

"On my nightstand," Ginny said, still feeling the urgency of the moment. "Ron… Ron and me…"

Janae stood from the table, leaving her tea there. "Ginny, would you like to get some fresh air while your mum finds the picture?"

Ginny finally looked at her and deflated. Ginny realized that if Janae hadn't thought she was broken before, Ginny just gave her reason to change her mind on the matter. She looked back at her mother, who was staving off tears. "Okay," Ginny said breathlessly. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Molly said, but Ginny turned towards the kitchen door, Janae following behind her. "I'm sorry."

"It's really lovely out today," Janae commented as they walked passed the garden. Ginny didn't reply, crossing her arms in front of her. "Would you like to tell me about what happened?"

"I wanted to keep that picture," Ginny said. "They can take the rest of them."

Janae nodded. She waved her wand and two stump-like chairs grew up from the ground. Ginny sat on one of them. "You've really taken a liking to your brother Ron," said stated.

Ginny nodded. "He… he played Quidditch with me," she said.

"Well, then it makes perfect sense why you like him," Janae said. "I heard mostly you've done well here."

Ginny wasn't sure that was true. All she could think about were the couple times she'd lost any control she had. "I yelled at them last night."

"We aren't measuring success by whether or not you yell," Janae promised her. "But thank you for telling me. Your mum was telling me they didn't let you leave as they should have."

"They wanted me to stay for cake."

Janae nodded. "They should have given you your space. What about you? Have you followed your first rule?"

Ginny thought about this. She hadn't concentrated on her rules since the first day. She thought to rule number one again. _Share what you're thinking_. "Sort of," Ginny said. "I… I told Ron…" she stopped without expounding.

"That's good," Janae said. "Do you think there's a connection between you telling him what you're thinking and you liking his company?"

"Maybe," Ginny shrugged. She thought a little more about this idea. She liked Ron before she started talking to him about her questions and what she thought. "He was… joking with me first, though."

Janae seemed interested by this. "Alright, that's good to know. How do you think you might open up to someone who maybe isn't that way?"

She thought about her parents and her other brothers. "I don't know," she admitted.

"It's hard," Janae agreed. "But you see, there's a communication problem right now. You don't know how to talk to your family members, and they aren't sure how to talk to you. It's nobody's fault, Ginny. It's just what's happening. I very much expect them to try harder to make you feel comfortable sharing your thoughts, but I hope you can find a way to express yourself."

"Sometimes I don't what words to use," Ginny said. "I know a lot of how I feel isn't… normal."

"Well, if it helps, normal doesn't exist as much as people think," Janae said as she grabbed her large bag and opened it up, digging inside. "Also, you segued perfectly to this."

Janae held out a book with a red leather cover, a pretty, intricate design stamped into the material. Ginny took it from her, flipping through to find blank, lined pages.

"If you're having trouble sorting through your thoughts, you are welcome to write them in there," Janae said. "I hope you will share with your family when you're ready, but it's there for you to figure things out."

Ginny nodded. Janae asked her for an account of the other days here at The Burrow. Ginny told her about Victoire and gave her a list of all the little things she remembered—like how to use the wireless. Eventually they walked back into the kitchen and Janae said goodbye. Ginny saw the picture of her and Ron sitting on the table for her.

Ginny closed the door and walked around the house until she found her mum, sitting on the bed in her parents' room. "Mum?" she said.

Molly turned and quickly swiped at her tears. "Oh, Ginny," she said. "How was your meeting with Janae?"

"Good," Ginny said. She walked into the room at sat next to her mother. It took her a minute before she could look over at her. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

Molly reached out, tucking Ginny's hair behind her ear, pressing her lips together and swallowing back tears. "It's okay, dear. We should have asked before taking any of your photographs."

Ginny tucked herself into Molly's body, letting herself cry again as Molly wrapped her arms around her and played with her hair. "Mum, I feel so alone."

Molly cried too, but gripped Ginny tighter and rocked her back and forth.

* * *

Harry was certain he'd never been more jealous of Ron. Ron was spending most evenings playing chess and Quidditch with Ginny, sometimes taking Hermione with him. Then he would come to work the next morning and Harry would get a report on how Ginny was doing. Harry would have been glad if he saw a chance to be there for Ginny in the same way, but as he read through the books he realized most of the advice was for direct family members. Advice for husbands and wives was the closest he found, but it seemed that mostly there weren't considerations for those in between stages, which only served to frustrate him.

Harry even had mixed feelings about the progress reports from Ron. He loved knowing that Ginny was getting more comfortable at home and finding things to do, but if he were really honest with himself what he wanted to hear was that she remembered him. Or something about him. He asked Ron if he could come play Quidditch with them one of the afternoons, but Ron didn't think it would be a great idea.

"Just give it time," Ron said.

Ron slumped in the chair next to Harry's desk with a big huff. "How's it going?" Ron asked.

"Great," Harry said sarcastically. "I got to spend my whole night alone, reading."

"You pulled a Hermione, huh?"

Harry tried for a surly look, but couldn't help smile a little. "How was Ginny?"

"It was a rough day for her," Ron said. "She remembered Tom Riddle."

Harry stopped with his coffee mug at his lips. Tom Riddle… him and Ron had been so tightly wound to that moment in her life. "What did she remember?"

"Most everything up to when she was taken to the Chamber," Ron said. "She was really anxious when I got there. We didn't really play at all, but she asked me a bunch of questions about what happened."

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "I think she is. It gave me a chance to tell her more about you, too. You know, how you went down there for her and everything."

"How did she take that? Did she say anything?"

"Just that she was surprised a scrawny git like you could have fought a basilisk," Ron said with a grin. Harry didn't think it was funny. He scowled and set down his mug. "Okay, too far. Sorry. Ginny didn't really say anything, though. She kind of just took it in."

Still irritated, this seemed just as bad to Harry. "Right. Well, I have work to do."

"You don't even want to hear how I set up a double date for us later this week?"

Harry looked at Ron again. "Double date?"

"Well, I mean, we aren't going to call it that," Ron said. "But she asked how long we'd been friends and what you were like. Then I asked her if she'd be okay doing dinner with me, Hermione, and you at your place or something. She said she'd like that right before I left."

Harry could feel the corners of his mouth lift. "Okay," Harry said. "My place is a wreck… but... "

"You have until Thursday," Ron said. "Hermione and Ginny were going to do a fitting at the bridal shop Friday morning, so she's staying the night with us."

"Great!" Harry said.

Ron smiled at Harry as he stood. "We should probably talk about it before then, but I thought you'd like that news."

Harry stood and hugged Ron, a far cry from moments before when he was considering hexing him.

"This is a bit weird, mate," Ron said and Harry pulled back, still smiling.

"Yeah, er… I have to get into a meeting, but let's go to lunch," Harry said. "My treat."

"I never say no to free food," Ron said. "We can make plans then."


	4. Dinner

_**Dinner**_

Ginny smoothed out her sundress as Ron knocked on Harry's front door. She'd been home for nearly three weeks and some sense of normalcy was setting in. If not in terms of remembering her life before, getting a new schedule in her days. Janae had been right. As soon as she could tell her mum about how she was feeling, life became infinitely more manageable. She would still wait to ask Ron about a lot of things, but on days Ron was busy with wedding planning and work, Ginny didn't want to wait and she'd ask Molly. Sometimes Arthur was there and would help answer the questions so that Ginny had become comfortable with him as well.

"Who else did you say would be here?"

"Neville," Hermione answered with a smile. "He's a dear friend to all of us."

Ginny nodded and the door was opened by an old, withered little house elf with a smile that was slightly disturbing. "Hello, Mister Ron, Miss Hermione, Miss Ginny," he said.

"This is Kreacher," Ron whispered, putting a hand on the back of Ginny's arm. "He's friendly."

Kreacher bowed as they came in and Hermione pulled something from her purse. "My parents were in France on holiday recently," she told Kreacher, holding a brown paper bag out. "They brought back some specialty truffles, but I have no idea what I can make with them. I thought you'd like to use them."

Kreacher's aged eyes sparkled. "Oh, yes," he said. "Kreacher can make good with that. Yes, yes, indeed."

He took the bag petting it like it was something quite precious.

"You should have sent that to him so he could make something with it tonight," Ron said. "Think it would be rude to invite ourselves to dinner tomorrow night too?"

Hermione gave him an exasperated look as they entered the sitting room. Harry and Neville had been talking, but both stood as they entered. Ginny watched Harry as he put his hands in his pockets.

"Isn't Kreacher getting a little old to be running around answering the door for you?" Hermione asked.

"I've tried to take it over," Harry said. "He got quite upset last time, so I just… stay out of his way."

"Well…" Hermione looked like she wanted to say something else on the matter, but stepped over and gave Neville a hug instead. "How have you been?" she asked as she did so.

"Good," Neville said. "Just been working a lot."

"And spending time with Hannah," Ron added to Hermione under his breath.

Whoever Hannah was, this apparently interested Hermione because there was a bit of an exchange that Ginny didn't understand as they all settled onto a long couch. She took the moment to watch Harry. At the family dinner there had been far too much going on to really think beyond the hope of getting through the night without incident—of course even that hadn't worked. But since that night Ron had brought Harry up every now and again. Two days before, after she had agreed to dinner at his house, Ginny thought of several questions to ask Ron.

"He's a good person?" Ginny asked. She couldn't get out of her head how she felt when she woke up. The buzzing in her ears. Faces she didn't know surrounding her. Hands touching her and closing in. And Harry, forcefully pressing himself on her when she was so very trapped. The way Ron talked about him, Ginny had to wonder how much she really understood that moment. After all, she knew now that her mother had no ill intent. But even thinking about it again made her palms clammy.

"He's great," Ron told her. "I wouldn't have let him date you if I hadn't thought so."

"How long were we together?" Ginny asked.

"Um… five years? I think five years," Ron said. "You may have to check that with Harry."

"Will he… expect me to kiss him?"

"No," Ron said. "He knows that he needs to wait for you to be ready for that."

"Then why did he kiss me when I woke up?"

Then Ron told her about that evening. How they had all been there—including Harry— for the better part of three days. That the healers promised she was fine. That they learned in that moment that something was wrong. Ginny stayed quiet while he explained all this and she tried to picture it from their perspective. She nodded silently when Ron finished.

"I don't think Harry will forget that anytime soon," Ron told her. "He won't try anything unless you make it clear it's what you want."

The others were laughing at something Ron said and Harry turned, making eye contact with Ginny. He stopped laughing, but was smiling, his eyes flicking between the others and her. She turned her attention back to everyone else.

"So what have you been doing, Ginny?" Neville asked.

There was a very simple answer to that. Nothing. She spent most of her days thumbing through her school textbooks that sat in her room, relearning charms and spells she didn't remember. She'd gotten through the first three levels. "Mum's been teaching me her favorite recipes," Ginny shared, feeling that was less pathetic than the other activities. "And I got an owl from the Harpies about the start of training in a month."

"You didn't tell me that," Ron said. "That's exciting."

"Well," Ginny shrugged, realizing she shouldn't have brought it up. "I just got it yesterday and you were busy. Plus… I'm probably going to have to write back and let them know I won't be back this season."

"Why?" Harry asked. Ginny turned to him and his face was full of concern. "Ron told me you've been playing brilliantly."

"Well, playing Ron isn't like it's going to be playing with a league team."

"What are you saying," Ron said, with a false hurt to his voice. "I thought I was challenging you."

"I bet you challenge her like a breeze challenges a hippogriff," Harry said.

Ginny laughed. "I didn't mean it like that!" she said as Ron's scowl turned on Harry. Harry looked at her and winked. She swallowed. It seemed so much more natural than he'd been around her so far. "A-all I meant," she said, catching herself and turning back to Ron, "is it's just the two of us. And I'm sure a real game might be a bit much. I would need to learn how to really play again."

"If there's anyone who can do it, it's you," Neville chimed in. He had a friendly smile. Something buzzed in the back of Ginny's mind. Music and Christmas decorations and Neville's almost familiar face.

"If it's practice you need, we ought to get more than Ron playing with you," Harry said.

"Harry's not half bad as a chaser," Ron mentioned. "I should start bringing him around. Then you two could bash on me more often."

"Maybe," Ginny said. She looked over to Harry, but he was looking down. "Maybe that'd be good."

Harry didn't look up but smiled a little again.

"Kreacher has finished the meal," Kreacher said from the doorway.

"Thanks," Harry said. "Why don't take the rest of the night off, Kreacher?"

The whole group made their way into the dining room. It was a nice sort of flat. Ginny looked around, noting that there was very little decoration. Most of walls were white, except in the dining room where it was a bold red with gold fixtures. A simple black table sat in the middle. "I like this color," Ginny commented as she sat between Neville and Ron. Harry took a spot at one end of the table. "What color is this?"

Harry looked strained. "I, er, would have to go look."

"I like it," Ginny repeated, unsure of why he suddenly looked so upset.

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough. Kreacher cooked quite a nice stew and even brought out a chocolate tart for dessert. The discussion was mostly small talk and Ginny included a comment when she had one, which wasn't often.

"I told my mum we'd be back before nine," Hermione said as the night wound down. "And we have to take a muggle cab. Besides, your mum should be there by now."

"I'll stay and help Harry clean up," Ron said.

Hermione stood behind him and bent over, kissing him. "Actually try to help and don't just ramble at him, yes?"

Ron gave a sort of grunting affirmation and Ginny stood, picking up her plate. Harry stood quickly. "I'll take that," he said.

"Thanks," she replied. Harry went into the kitchen, coming back empty handed, then lead her and Hermione to the door.

They had made it a dozen steps towards the street, when Ginny turned back. "Everything okay?" Hermione asked.

"Fine, just a moment," Ginny said, knocking on the door again.

Harry opened it, his eyebrows knitting. "Hey," he said.

"Will you come with Ron to help me practice Sunday?" she asked.

The corners of Harry's lips rose. "Sure," he said. "I'd love to."

Ginny turned and caught up with Hermione, who had called a taxi. Ginny stared out the window as they drove. It was dark out, the muggle lampposts spacing out the light that made shadows. After getting the journal from Janae, Ginny started a chart of the people she was meeting and getting to know. She had divided them up into different categories. Up along the top, these were listed.

Love, Trust, Like, Don't Like, Unsure

Most of the names were under that last category still. Ron, her parents, and Victoire were all under the "Love" category. Ron and Molly were also included under "Trust", added to Janae and Natalie, though Ginny hadn't seen Natalie since the hospital. Under "Like" sat Hermione, though that was slowly edging over to be trusted as well, and a girl named Luna, who had come to visit her the weekend before. She was rather blunt, but never in a mean way. No one had managed to make it to the fourth list yet, though Ginny figured it was safe to have just in case. The last was filled. George, Bill, Percy, and Fleur were all still in this limbo.

Harry was in this last category as well. Ginny twisted her ring around and around. They were supposed to get married in December, Ron said. Ginny was certain that she shouldn't keep this ring unless she loved him. Should she have given it back tonight, she wondered. She tried to pull it off, but it was a bit tight. She sighed. She'd keep a little while longer.

"Did you enjoy dinner?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Ginny said. "It was nice. Neville seems sweet."

"He is," Hermione said. "There are few people in this world kinder than Neville. What did you think of Harry?"

Ginny shrugged. "I think I make him nervous," she said.

"The situation does, I think," Hermione replied. Ginny was glad she didn't refute her assessment. "But he seemed happy to have you there."

"What about the dining room color?" Ginny asked.

"What do you mean?"

Ginny adjusted in her seat, turning more towards Hermione. "When I mentioned the color he looked upset. Does he not like the color?"

"Oh, that," Hermione said. She bit her bottom lip and looked cautiously at Ginny. "It wasn't that."

"What was it then?"

"Well… when he moved in there, you kept bothering him to add some color."

"So?"

"So… you were the one who picked it out."

* * *

Ginny, Hermione, Molly, and Mrs. Granger all went to the bridal shop in the morning. They met Hermione's cousin, Bree, there. She was in her dress, standing on the platform and looking at herself in the mirror. "You're already here, Bree?" Mrs. Granger said, stepping over and giving her niece a kiss on the cheek.

"Yes, well, I have a lunch date," Bree said. "You know, a lot of people think the goal is to get married, which is all well and good unless you're pretty. Then there's lots of time to have fun."

She said it like a joke, but her eyes flitted over to Hermione with a grin. Mrs. Granger asked her about who she was meeting up with and what they would be doing.

"What a cow," Ginny leaned in and whispered.

Hermione looked at her. "Pretty much," Hermione said.

"Why is she a bridesmaid again?" Ginny asked.

"My mum made me," Hermione admitted.

"Hermione, why don't you and Ginny get changed so we can see all of you as a set, then we can let Bree go?"

Hermione took Ginny by the arm. "As long as that means we're free of her," Hermione muttered under her breath as they went to the back.

A couple of the women bustled around, pulling out dresses and getting them each into dressing rooms. Ginny pulled on the fitted teal party dress with a sash that came down on the left. It, of course, matched Bree's. She stepped out, barefoot and stood by Hermione's cousin, who gave her a snide look. Ginny couldn't help but let her mean side think that it was because she looked so much better in the dress than Bree.

"Oh, Hermione!" Mrs. Granger said, immediately tearing up. Molly wasn't far behind her.

Hermione beamed as the seamstress adjusted the skirt to flare out. The top was fitted with wide straps over her shoulders. At her waist, some of fabric gathered so that the satin below fell in delicate details of drapery. It was simple, but elegant.

"I still think it was smart to not get anything too elaborate," Bree said. "Doesn't outshine you."

Molly and Mrs. Granger didn't seem to hear her. Ginny was tempted to accidentally elbow her as she moved closer to the others. Molly reached out and pulled Ginny into her by the waist. "You girls look so lovely," Molly said, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief. "Ron will be speechless."

"Can we take that picture you wanted, Auntie Tricia?" Bree asked in a sing-song voice. "I just wanted to go home and finish getting ready."

Ginny and Hermione were ushered onto the platform next to Bree, whose attitude now indicated that her and Hermione were the best of friends as she wrapped herself around Hermione's waist, posing for the camera. Ginny and Hermione humored Mrs. Granger, as she snapped off one picture after another. After about five minutes (and what Ginny could only imagine were five hundred pictures), Bree bowed out, running to the dressing room.

"Miss Weasley," the dress shop assistant asked. "We had your wedding gown ready if you still wanted to try it on today, like you talked about last time."

Ginny froze, confused. She looked over to the others. Hermione and Molly looked petrified. "Er, well," Hermione started, trying to find something to say.

Molly turned her explanation towards Ginny instead of the assistant. "One of the times you came here with Hermione you found a dress you liked… for your wedding," she explained. Ginny felt her chest tighten. Shouldn't someone have cancelled that? "I hadn't seen it and.. and you said you'd like to try them on together at some point, but—" Molly turned towards the assistant "—I don't know that we need to do that any longer."

"Actually, let's," Ginny said quickly.

"Are you sure, dear?" Molly asked, turning towards her and playing with her hair. Ginny nodded. "Alright, then off you go," she added, trying for a bit of excitement.

The assistant adjusted a couple more pins for the teal dress, then took Ginny back to her dressing room, placing another dress in there, this one white. Ginny could hear the buzz of the whispered conversation outside the door. She knew they were explaining why Ginny didn't know about her wedding dress. Why she didn't know about plans of trying hers on with Hermione. Why she may not need this dress afterall.

Ginny concentrated on easing out of the dress filled with pins and putting on the white dress. This one wasn't tailored to her yet, but it still fit fairly well. The top was a halter satin covered in lace, with lace sleeves that went down to her wrists. The skirt wasn't a ball gown style like Hermione's, but fit her curves to the knee with a mermaid flare below.

She took a breath and walked out. If Molly had teared up at Hermione, her reaction this time made her seem like a water fountain. Ginny stepped up onto the platform, turning towards the mirror. She looked at herself, the whole image, and saw in her reflection someone who knew what she wanted. It was someone she had lost touch with and wished she knew how to get her back.

Molly stepped up beside her, a hand around her waist and resting her chin on Ginny's bare shoulder. "This looks better than I even thought it would," she said.

Ginny smiled at her mum in the mirror. "Should… should I really be buying this?" Ginny asked her.

Molly swallowed. "Absolutely," Molly said. "I think you were meant to have this dress."

Ginny nodded, looking herself up and down again.

"Both of you together," Mrs. Granger instructed, pulling out her camera again. Hermione stepped up and they wrapped an arm around each other. Without Bree there, the eternity of photographs seemed much more bearable.

When they were done at the shop, Hermione asked if Ginny wanted to spend some time at Diagon Alley. "We can surprise George at his shop," Hermione suggested.

"That sounds good," Ginny said. "I'll be back tonight."

"Certainly," Molly replied. She seemed pleased that Ginny wanted to go.

They visited various shops. Ginny bought a few new books and a potions kit, deciding it wouldn't be a bad idea for her to relearn that as well. George seemed nervous when they came in, but as he showed Ginny around his busy, colorful shop, his smile grew and he started making one joke after another. Before they left, Ginny leaned in to give him a hug and he squeezed her tightly.

"He's really funny," Ginny noted as they walked through the door.

"Yes, hilarious," Hermione said sarcastically as she pulled multicolored spiderwebs from her hair.

"Ginny?" a man said from their right.

She stopped, looking at him. He was thin and tall with strawberry blonde hair that was shaggy just down around his ears. Ginny looked over to Hermione, but she shrugged. He was walking up to them. "How are you doing?" he asked her.

"I'm… I'm okay," she said. "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are."

"Oh god, I'm sorry," he said. "We were told about what happened, I'm such an idiot. Nile Baker."

"Oh!" Hermione said. "Ginny! This is one of the players from the England Quidditch team."

"Alright," Ginny said, breathing a little easier with answers, glad that Nile said he already knew what had happened.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make things awkward," Nile added. "It's just… so good to see you're doing well. You know, aside from…"

Ginny thought that for someone who was trying to not make things awkward, he was failing spectacularly.

"How is training going for the World Cup?" Hermione asked, putting an arm around Ginny's shoulder. Ginny was glad she was taking over the conversation, as Ginny herself couldn't think of anything to say.

"It's intense," Nile said. "If we had Ginny still, it wouldn't even be a concern, but our new chaser is having to figure everything out, you know. You're coming to watch at least, right?"

"Er," Ginny felt her cheeks warming. "No, I-I don't think so at least."

"Didn't they at least send you box seats? We wouldn't be going if it weren't for you," Nile said.

"No, I… I don't think I have tickets," Ginny said. She felt a similar panic rising the more Nile spoke.

"Nile, I'm terribly sorry, but I haven't eaten all day and we were just going to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. Will you pass all our well wishes to the team?" Hermione interjected.

"Oh, yeah… Yeah of course!" Nile said. "I really have to finish my errands as well. Best of luck, Ginny. It was good to see you."

"Y-you too," Ginny said and he smiled as he left.

Hermione was giving Ginny side glances as they walked towards the Leaky Cauldron. The two of them settled into a corner booth and were silent for several minutes. "Did I like my teammates?" Ginny finally asked.

Hermione smiled. "There was one of the chasers who was really arrogant, but you thought he was a great player."

"Was that Nile?"

"No," Hermione answered. "I think you liked Nile just fine. And the others, but you've only been working with them since March and we hadn't seen you much because of training."

Ginny looked at the menu, letting this sink in until the feeling of panic subsided. She was have less of these, though she also hadn't been out of the house much and wondered how long it would be before she wouldn't continually run into reminders of things she couldn't remember.

A woman came by to take their orders and Hermione changed the topic, leading to the two gossiping over how awful Bree was for a while. "I can't believe she used _lunch date_ as an excuse at ten in the morning," Hermione said.

"She probably needed the extra time to adjust her makeup and personality," Ginny pointed out.

The waiter brought their plates and they settled in.

"You know," Hermione said, making Ginny pause. "I need to tell you something that I don't think anyone else will, because it's a terrible thought."

Ginny looked at her, waiting silently for what was coming.

"I adore Harry, and so does everyone in your family. But… if you need to take a step back… if … you wanted to step back from the engagement, that is…"

Ginny looked down at her ring again, twisting it. "Would he be upset?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "Yes, quite upset. And… I hate being the one to suggest it, but I think you need someone to tell you that you have to do what's best for you right now. Just… if you need support in that..."

Ginny took a deep breath, glad someone else seemed to notice the struggle she was having with herself. "Thank you," she said, still unsure of what exactly _was_ best for her.

* * *

Harry walked with Ron and Ginny out to the pitch and they all got into the air, starting by just throwing the quaffle around. Harry felt more happy than he had since watching Ginny play in the game that took her memory away.

"Alright, I'll keep and Harry can show you some plays," Ron said, turning and going towards the hoops they usually used.

Ginny turned towards him and his heart skipped a beat. Her eyes were intent and she waited for him. The quaffle was in his hand. "Right," Harry said, then sighed, thinking about this. "Well, to start we can try a basic weave. It usually works better with all three chasers, but since there aren't any bludgers or other players, it should be fine."

Harry tried to illustrate with his fingers how the chasers form a line and the one with the quaffle falls back slightly while one of the chasers gets ahead to receive a throw, then the third, and they continue this down the length of the field.

"Okay," Ginny said. "I think I understand."

Harry started and Ginny flew ahead of him. He threw, she caught, and he did the same. They did this until they got down to the end, where Harry tried to throw the quaffle through the hoop. Ron caught it, then tossed it back.

"Good," Harry said. "Let's try it again."

Ginny was focused and determined. They ran through the weave a few more times before she had it better than Harry. He taught her a second type of play, then a third. She picked them up easily, ready for the next.

"It's been awhile since I really had to know plays," Harry admitted. "I'll look up some more for next time."

Ginny flew around him, snatching the Quaffle and heading down their small pitch and sinking it into the right hoop.

"Ah, come on, I wasn't ready," Ron said.

"A good player's always ready," Ginny said. Harry smiled.

"Ron!" Hermione called from a bit away in the garden. She had come along too, though she was going over the guest list with Mrs. Weasley. "Ron, we need you for a bit," she added.

"Okay, 'mione!" he shouted. "Keep playing, I'll be back."

"Maybe you'll be ready by then?" Ginny called after him and Ron replied with a rude hand gesture, making Ginny fall into laughter. She turned towards Harry and stopped abruptly, clearing her throat. "So… how do you know Quidditch so well?"

She tossed him the quaffle.

"I was the seeker for Gryffindor in school," Harry told her. "And I was captain my sixth year."

Ron had stuck around his place for hours after their dinner talking to him about what he needed to do. Ron apparently thought Harry had looked sad every time Ginny asked questions that were simple, such as the one she just asked. He had worked on thinking of how to stop this, and hoped he'd succeeded just now. Ron kept emphasizing that if he answered without looking upset, Ginny would ask more questions. And as she asked more questions, she would like him too. He hoped Ron was right.

"But not your seventh?" Ginny asked.

"No," Harry told her. "I didn't go back for my seventh."

"Oh," Ginny said. "So… so Ron told me I played for Gryffindor. So we were on the team together?"

Harry nodded, catching the quaffle and tossing it back. "For a couple years, at least. You played seeker a few times when I couldn't."

"Why couldn't you?"

"Well, for one game I landed myself in detention," he explained. He suddenly remembered what happened after that game. He thought of how Ginny looked as she ran to him and the feel of her mouth. He concentrated on not making a sad expression, forcing a smile.

Ginny clammed up and they tossed the quaffle in silence for a bit. Harry kicked himself mentally, realizing this had been his fault. He looked towards The Burrow, wondering when Ron was going to be back.

"I guess there's not much more practice to do," Ginny said.

"Er, yeah," Harry said. "I guess not." He would have to go see what Quidditch books he still had and make sure to have more plays next time. If there was a next time. If he hadn't screwed this up beyond all reason.

"Ron told me you saved me my second year at school," Ginny said, not looking at him as they walked. She set the pace, and Harry noticed it was very slow.

"Sort of," Harry said, blushing. It was such a strange conversation. "Ron and I both went to find you. He would have been there too, but we were separated when some stones caved in. I just happened to be on the side where I could get to you."

Ginny grinned. "Ron said you'd downplay it," she said, looking sideways at him. "And… when did we get engaged?"

There was more tension in her voice at this question. Harry cleared his throat. "Almost a year ago," Harry said.

Ginny stopped, a look of concentration set on her face, her jaw tensing.

"I'm sorry, did I… I shouldn't have said…"

"No," Ginny said, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "No, I… thought I wanted to know." She turned towards him, meeting his eyes. "Harry, you seem really nice."

Harry couldn't help himself this time. He swallowed, trying to make his face neutral as he looked into Ginny's beautiful brown eyes. She looked apprehensive, her mouth half open, like there were words that had been muted on their way out. She cleared her throat.

"I feel terrible that I don't remember," she said.

Harry let out a breath. "It's okay, Gin," he said. "You shouldn't feel terrible. Don't feel terrible."

"When you kissed me—"

"I know what you must have thought," Harry barrelled ahead of her comment. "Ginny, I never… _never_ would have done that if I knew what it would have done."

Ginny closed her mouth and nodded. "I know. I mean… Ron told me that."

They both stood there awkwardly, each holding a broom and Ginny with the quaffle. Harry wished he had something better to say or do.

"You know," Harry said. "I've been… been reading all those books Janae gave us."

"Oh," Ginny said, trying to sound interested. "Is it helping?"

"I think so," Harry lied. He didn't think it was helping much at all. He mostly wanted Ginny to know he was trying. That he would try anything for her. "There was one case that this man who couldn't remember saw some memories in a pensieve and it helped jog his own memories back."

Ginny tilted her head, her eyes starting to water. Harry reached out, gently touching her upper arm. She didn't jerk away at least.

"Ginny," Harry said. She looked into his eyes again. "Ginny, I didn't mean for that to upset you. I just… I've been trying to think of how to help. We don't have to try that. I only… I want you to feel happy."

Ginny nodded. "I really liked playing Quidditch with you today," she said.

Harry let out a tense breath, smiling. "I really liked it, too," he said. "I can come this week again. Tomorrow… or w-whenever."

"Okay," Ginny said. She let out a shuddering breath and wiped at her eyes, ridding the threat of tears and breaking the connection. "I'd like that."

Harry stuck his empty hand into his pocket and they started walking in.

"You work with Ron too, right?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I work with Ron."


	5. The World Cup

_**The World Cup**_

 _Dear Ginny,_

 _Nile Baker informed us that you had not yet received tickets to the Quidditch World Cup in Moscow. We apologize profusely for this terrible oversight and hope we may see you there in the top box!_

 _Best,_

 _Henrietta Gothe_

Ginny didn't know who Henrietta Gothe was, but she now had half a dozen tickets that came with the owl and she kept going to her desk drawer where she had placed them, examining the information written there.

"Should I go?" Ginny asked her mum at lunch.

"It's up to you," Molly said. She wiped at the flour powdering her face, only making it worse. "But you worked very hard for their team and I'm sure they would love to see you at the final match. We would have to see who could go with you. Your father might not be able to take off of work. Charlie would enjoy it, I'm sure."

"Charlie?" Ginny asked.

"Your second oldest brother, dear," Molly said, flicking her wand so a whisk started to stir the contents of the bowl vigorously. "He was at Mungo's when you woke, but he had to go home to Romania. Now that I think of it, that might be a great chance for you to get some time with him. George might be able to go as well. You decide whether or not you'd like to go first and we'll figure it out."

Ginny agreed and wrote three pages trying to decide if she wanted to go. At her appointment with Janae she had talked about it as well. "I'm afraid I'd end up having one of my moments," she admitted. "That I won't be able to control it."

"Have you had any recently?"

"Not much anymore," Ginny said. "And I can usually find my words, but only when I'm with someone that helps. Like Ron or Mum."

Janae nodded. "So perhaps if someone you feel helps could go with?"

"Maybe," Ginny said. The way Niles Baker spoke with her made her worried for how she would feel if the whole team was that way. "Ron and Hermione said they could maybe go, but the game is also on Harry's birthday, so I think… at least I get the impression they would feel bad if they weren't here for that."

"How are you feeling about Harry?" Janae asked.

Ginny thought about this. "He's come to help me practice every day this week. Yesterday Ron couldn't even come with."

"And?"

Ginny didn't know how to verbalize the churning of thoughts surrounding Harry. The more time she spent with him, the more confused they seemed to become. He was handsome, that was certain. Once in awhile she'd catch herself not even listening to what was being said, just to look at him and the way his smile lit up his eyes. Or the way he would press down his hair, pointlessly, after running his hand nervously through it.

She was becoming more comfortable with him in some ways, though they steered clear of every topic surrounding their romantic past. The two times Ginny had been tempted and asked anything about it, she would find herself with that uncomfortable tightness around her spine and Harry apologizing over and over, even though his only crime had been to answer her question. They had both concluded that they enjoyed their time together more when they just practiced Quidditch. Harry brought new plays to try each day and had even bought her a large book all about the minute aspects of the game.

"I like him," Ginny concluded. Janae knew about her categories. It became the easiest default to answer how she felt about any individual.

"But?"

"No one has said anything about our wedding actually being cancelled. Or postponed. I feel like everyone expects it will still happen," Ginny said. Her pulse raced as she said it. "And… and December is a while away, but…"

"But it's not that far away."

"Exactly," Ginny said. Janae was excellent at finishing thoughts she couldn't manage. So long as she could spit out the beginning of it. "I just… Janae, I've been trying those exercises you gave me. I've been trying so hard to remember."

"Do you recall the warning I gave?" Janae asked. "Concerning those exercises in particular?"

"Yes," Ginny said. "They might… not work…"

Janae nodded. "Or they could work slowly or yield memories that aren't the ones you're hoping they will. The mind is a complicated and mysterious thing, Ginny. It's not the same as working other muscles. It's partly out of your control."

Ginny thought about this and nodded, turning the mug in front of her at the kitchen table. "So what do I do in the meantime?"

"I can't tell you that," Janae said. "I very much believe in you choosing what you need."

Ginny didn't bother telling her that the problem was she didn't know what she needed. Instead, they talked of other things. Things Ginny was doing and reteaching herself. Things she had done with her mum. A night she had spent with George, who took her to dinner and spent the rest of the evening playing exploding snaps with her. She had plans to spend a weekend with Bill, too. Victoire had been by with Fleur a few times. Ginny was seeing both the benefit and downside to so many brothers in this: she had lots of places to visit, but she also had to figure out how she felt about each of them.

"Is there anything else you needed from me?" Janae asked when their hour was up and she was getting ready to leave.

"No," Ginny said. "I think that's it." She had hoped Janae would give her more clear direction as to what to choose with the World Cup… and more importantly with Harry, but it was clearly not going to come from Janae.

"Alright," Janae said. "I will be on holiday next week, so you get to spread your wings a bit! I do have an assistant at the office if you have an emergency of any sort."

"Great," Ginny replied. "Thanks."

"Trust yourself, Ginny," Janae said as a final thought. "Just trust yourself."

When Harry came that afternoon, they went out to the pitch, but Ginny didn't feel like flying. She set down her broom and sat.

"You okay?" Harry asked.

"I just don't feel much up to playing," she admitted.

"Okay, we don't have to," Harry said, sitting in the grass across from her. "How are your potions coming?"

Ginny took a deep breath. "It's embarrassing," she said.

"Well now you _have_ to tell me," Harry replied with a crooked grin.

Ginny felt a flutter in her chest at the grin and looked down, blushing. "Er… I was trying to do a swelling antidote and put the ingredients in backwards. It, er, bubbled over and burned my bedroom floor," she said. Harry threw back his head laughing. "It's not funny," she said, though her own words were interrupted with chuckles. "Mum was upset, but I could tell she was trying not to yell at me for the mess."

"I was terrible at potions in school," Harry said. "At least while Snape was in charge."

"Who's Snape?" she asked.

This question was answered in probably forty-five minutes of anecdotes and stories about how awful Snape was to him and the various ways he failed in Snape's class. They made Ginny's own blunder seem less terrible. She wondered, vaguely, if she had disliked Snape the way Harry described disliking him. He moved on to Slughorn and how much better he got in that class with the help of some used book. "Hermione would get so steamed.".

"Really?" Ginny asked. "I can't imagine her getting upset like that."

"Yes, well," Harry said. "She got that way more with school, where she wanted to always have the best marks. Hermione doesn't really show that side of herself much anymore."

Ginny nodded and they lulled into silence. Harry was picking at the grass, tearing off individual blades. "Would you… would you want to go to the World Cup with me?" Ginny asked. The question spilled out of her like she'd been thinking of this all along, even though before that moment she hadn't even decided if she wanted to go.

Harry looked up and blinked a couple times. She could see him fighting a wide smile. "I'd like that," he said.

"Well, it's over your birthday and I was just thinking if I could talk Ron into going and maybe Hermione… and Mum was thinking she might tell Charlie to meet us there. And I didn't even really know if I wanted to go myself, but if I had all of you, it might not be so bad, you know?"

Harry was still smiling, nodding. "I know," he said. "I'd love to go."

* * *

All the plans had been put together and Ginny found herself getting more and more excited as the World Cup approached. Ron and Hermione were coming, and Charlie would join them there, though he couldn't stay the night.

"Take your father's new tent, Ginny," Molly instructed. "It should be easy to set up. Charlie's bringing one for you to borrow as well. And I'll make plenty of sandwiches for when you get there, though there will food vendors if you need it. And did you pack a jacket?"

Ginny knew her mum would be fretting until she was back, but she was feeling better and better about the decision. Ron was excited, saying that it would be good to get Hermione away from wedding plans, though Hermione seemed to go into overdrive trying to get more done before leaving.

"It's a month away, Hermione," Ron said.

"Exactly," she replied to Ron, using her wand to make little paper lanterns. "It's _only_ a month away. Do you know how much still has to be done?"

Ginny was certain Ron didn't know, but Hermione started on the list as they were packing the last of everything. "I'll help you with the rest of those when we get back," Ginny promised Hermione.

Harry came just before they were supposed to leave, having gone to the Ministry to obtain a portkey permit. "We ready?" he asked.

Hermione was just stuffing the last of their things in an impossibly small purse for what she had put in. "Ready," she confirmed and they all went out into the yard, Molly issuing a litany of instructions and warning and "take-care-of-yourselves" before Harry touched a large coffee tin and they were off to Russia.

The weather was nice, if a bit cooler than back home, and there was a large lawn full of tents. Ron and Hermione walked behind Ginny and Harry as they grabbed a map and tried to find their rented spot for the night.

"No, we should have gone right, Ron," Hermione said, taking the map back after they'd wandered around for twenty minutes. "Back there at the fork."

Ron gave an exasperated sigh. "I should have just had you figure it out to begin with," he said. "Okay, which way now, then?"

"Mum, Mum, look!" Ginny saw the little girl pointing to her. She had green and gold robes on, dressed to the nines in Quidditch gear. She was blonde and perhaps five years old. "Mum, it's Ginny Weasley!"

She was running towards their little group and her mother wasn't far behind. "Arianna! Don't be rude!"

"You're Ginny Weasley!" she yelled as she came up close.

Harry had half stepped in front of Ginny and the other two looked over from the map.

"That's what they tell me," Ginny replied, trying to smile.

"I love the Harpies! But _you're_ my favorite! Can I get an autograph?"

"Arianna," her mother said, exasperated as she put her hands on Arianna's shoulders. "I'm terribly sorry, ma'am."

"No, it's okay," Ginny said. Ginny didn't know if it was because she was small, or with her blonde hair reminded her of Victoire, but she squatted down in front of the girl. "Your name is Arianna?"

"Yes, and I'm going to play for the Harpies someday, just like you!" she declared.

"Are you a chaser too, then?"

"I would be, but my brothers always make me be a keeper," she huffed.

"Well there's nothing wrong with keeping," Ron interjected.

"And there's nothing wrong with proving to your brothers you're something else either," Ginny said.

"Can I… can I have your autograph?" Arianna asked again.

Ginny looked around to the others. "I don't have anything to sign with."

Hermione flicked her wand and came up with a self inking quill. Ginny turned to the girl and grabbed the corner of her robes. "Is here okay?"

"Yeah!" she exclaimed, as though this was better than she could have imagined.

As Ginny was doing this, a handful of other children seemed to realize what was going on, lining up wanting her signature as well. Ginny felt it was strange that anyone wanted this, but she enjoyed talking to each of them, signing bits of paper and Quidditch souvenirs, and even a toy quaffle. She talked to each about what they liked about Quidditch and what position they played.

She didn't even notice as a reporter and photographer approached until a flash of a camera went off. Ginny tensed and stepped back, Ron grasping at her wrist. "Let's get going," he whispered.

"Put that thing away," Harry shouted at the photographer.

"She's in public," he argued. "I have every right—"

"And I have every right to melt your film," Harry countered.

"I'm terribly sorry," she said to the small crowd as she stepped into Ron's protective arms.

"Ginny, would you mind answering a couple questions for _Quidditch Digest_ ," a man asked her. "We'd like to hear about what you've been up to, since that disastrous ending of your last match."

"I don't… I—"

"Come on, Ginny," Ron said, directing her. "You don't have to talk to them."

She felt shaky as they moved through the crowds of people. The attention that they'd drawn was bringing more reporters asking questions, not all of them directed to her.

"Would you mind giving us a statement of what it was like to see your fiance when she was hit by those bludgers? What went through your mind, Harry?"

"Ginny, Ginny! Is it true you'll still be back with the Harpies this next season?"

"How do you respond to rumors that your injuries have been faked for publicity?"

"Are you concerned with your replacement on England's team, Miss Weasley?"

Ron put his arms around Ginny's shoulders, trying to push her away from the onslaught. "Sod off," he said to one particularly pushy photographer, shoving him to the ground. Ginny felt short of breath. As they passed more tents, she could see some people pointing at them and with every movement in the corner of her eye, she had a moment of panic that it was someone else, coming up to ask questions. They were moving away from the bulk of it, but the more persistent ones followed them. Ron turned around with his wand.

"Don't," Hermione pleaded. "This way," she added, redirecting them down another avenue. They moved so the three of them more or less surrounded Ginny as they walked.

"Ginny, why all this secrecy? What has happened since the infamous moment you were hit?"

"Charlie!" Hermione shouted, waving to another red headed man as they drew closer. His eyebrows knit. "Oh good, you have a tent set up already. In here Ginny," she said.

"What's going on?" he asked. Apparently it didn't take long to figure out as he shouted for one reporter to back off. Ginny got into the tent, Harry and Hermione staying with her as Ron turned around, his face a bright red. His voice joined Charlie's the moment he made it beyond the canvas flaps.

Ginny felt every nerve on edge. "Please, please, I don't want him to get in trouble," Ginny said, trying to stand from the chair she'd been directed into.

"Alright, I'll take care of that," Hermione said. "Just stay here, Ginny."

Ginny watched as Hermione left the tent and bent over covering her face with her hands trying to take deep breaths and ignore the arguments going on just outside.

"It's okay," Harry said. He reached out his hands to Ginny's wrists, holding firm to her and moving his thumbs along her skin. "You're fine, here."

She could still hear the others outside, yelling at those who had followed them the whole way.

"Woah, woah! No need to start jinxin' us! Merlin."

"Out!" This was from Hermione.

"Did I know all of them," Ginny finally was able to ask.

Harry shook his head. "Unlikely," he said. "I think you knew the more regular correspondants, but they wouldn't have chased you down like that."

"It was a mistake… I shouldn't have come… I-I… I…"

"Ginny, look at me," Harry whispered. She lowered her hands, his caring green eyes looking intently into hers. "You can't let idiots like that keep you shut away forever. Trust me."

"Do they know?"

"Know what?"

"That… that I've lost my mind?"

Harry's whole face softened. He let go of one of her wrists, reaching up his hand to push away some hairs that had escaped the braids she had put in that morning. "You haven't lost your mind," Harry said. "And they know nothing. The team released a statement after you woke up, but it was vague."

"What did they say exactly?" she asked.

Harry thought for a minute. "Something about… due to the nature of your injuries… and because of the World Cup coming up, they would be calling up a reserve player for the final match."

Ginny thought about this. "That's not much," she said.

"Exactly," Harry agreed. "That's why they were hounding you. I don't think we even thought about that happening, Ginny. It's our fault for not thinking of it."

Ginny didn't even register this last part, though. Instead she leaned forward, resting her head on Harry's chest. He wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back and whispering reassurances as she steadily calmed, breathing easier. "We'll plan better on the way to the stadium," he promised. "I brought my invisibility cloak and everything, if you'd rather not be seen at all."

Ginny sat back up. "Thanks," she said. She only hoped this was as bad as their two days here would get.

Hermione, Ron, and Charlie came in a couple minutes later. "You sure know how to make an entrance, Ginny," Charlie said with an easy smile. He looked a bit like George, only with more muscle on him. "So, do I get a hug? Or would you rather wait?"

Ginny had become more liberal with this over the course of a month. She stood and let Charlie wrap his arms around her. "Thanks for the ticket, by the way," Charlie said as he pulled back.

"Of course," Ginny said.

Charlie talked with each of the others, mentioning that one reason he couldn't stay the night was because he would already be taking a full two weeks off for the wedding the next month. "I thought if I was coming home, it might as well be for a bit."

They pulled out the sandwiches Molly made and eventually Ron and Hermione went to set up the second tent. "That one smells better," Hermione said. "I think we'll take that one," she added to Ginny.

* * *

Henrietta Gothe, as it turned out, was in charge of public relations for the England team. She came by to see how Ginny and her guests were getting on, at which point she was told of the incident with reporters.

"My," she said, shaking her head. "That _is_ a disgrace. We will send security to lead you to the stadium."

Ginny had been apprehensive about this, but Harry grabbed her hand on their way out of the tent and Ginny smiled at him. Once in the box, Ginny busily looked around the pitch. It was much larger than she somehow thought it would be, from their own little pitch at home. They all shuffled into their seats. Harry sat on her right, Charlie on her left. When Henrietta arrived, she introduced Ginny around. This box was filled mostly with members of the Ministry, some of who Harry, Ron, and Hermione seemed familiar with, and Henrietta joined them as well.

Ginny continued to hold Harry's hand as the teams were presented. "Ambercrombie is the new chaser," Harry leaned in and explained as cheers went up for each player of England. Ginny was the most quiet in the box as she narrowed her eyes taking it in.

They moved through the air at impossible speeds. That alone made the blood pump harder through Ginny's veins. She was trying to track each of the players, watching some of the plays Harry showed her in action. "Ambercrombie needs to get a better rhythm," Ginny muttered, noticing them do a warm-up weave where Ambercrombie nearly missed the quaffle twice, falling short of where he should have been.

The two teams met in the center and the ref held out the quaffle. Ginny leaned forward in quiet concentration, letting go of Harry's hand. He tentatively placed it on her back and when she didn't shrug it off, he drew circles with his finger. Ginny was interested in what was happening between the players.

Hoffman was the first with the quaffle, darting down the field. The ball lost grounding when he tossed it back to Baker, who took it up and made the first goal to an uproar of the crowds. Finland got the quaffle and there was a lot of back and forth. Ambercrombie was certainly the least skilled, fumbling the quaffle from time to time, giving it back to Finland often enough that the two teams were neck and neck. England was up twenty, but five minute later they were tied. Then Finland was in the lead until Hoffman had the quaffle for two runs in a row.

They longer they played, the more antsy Ginny got. Ambercrombie was cut off by one of the Finnish chasers and relinquished the quaffle. "Come on!" Ginny shouted. "Get yourself together! You couldn't handle a basic front block?!"

Charlie was laughing next to her.

"What?" she turned on him. "Did you see that bollocks?"

"Yeah, yeah I did," Charlie said.

Everyone else cheered as the England keeper stopped the goal and threw it out to Baker. Ambercrombie was hit by a bludger soon after and there was pause in play to sort him out. "Maybe that will jog him into playing better," Ginny said.

"Oh, you don't mean that Ginny," Hermione said.

"He's going to lose the whole thing!" Ginny said, pointing out to the field. "Didn't you see? I'm not the only one who's seeing this, am I?" She turned towards Harry to get confirmation and he was just smiling at her. "Am I?" she asked again.

"No," Harry said. "I'm seeing it too."

"Good," Ginny said, turning back to the pitch. They resumed play.

The game continued for two hours. England was only up ten points when the seekers both went into a dive. Ginny stood suddenly, leaning against the rails "Come on! Go! Damn it, Bryson, move!"

They dodged in and out of the other players, getting low to the pitch, then soaring straight up the east side of the stands. They were neck and neck until at the last moment Bryson dodged forward, grasping the snitch and the deafening scream followed as he flew around, holding the snitch high above him.

Ginny screamed with the rest of the people in the box. Without thinking of what she was doing, Ginny turned to her right and threw her arms around Harry. He pulled her in, his laughter ringing in Ginny's ear, which brought her senses back. She pulled back slightly, but kept her arms hanging limply around him. They looked at each other, smiling, and Harry took one of his hands, pushing back Ginny's fly away hair from her face.

"Weasley!" someone shouted from Ginny's left. "Weasley, come on!"

It was Hoffman, hovering near their box on his broom. Ginny let go of Harry, as Hoffman reached out a hand for her. Ginny licked her lips, then shook her head no.

"Oh, come on! This one's yours too!" Hoffman shouted.

Ginny waved him off, feeling her face burn red. Hoffman growled and zoomed off to where the rest of the team was collecting the cup.

"You should have gone, Ginny," Charlie said.

"No," she said. "That's okay. I'm happy to watch from here."

If she thought Hoffman had given up, though, she was entirely wrong. Instead, the whole team was soon flying towards their box, Brock and Baker holding the large trophy between them. Ginny was shaking her head as soon as it was clear what was happening, though they weren't to be deterred. People in the box moved to give them space as each member of the team landed, squeezing into the box and surrounding Ginny. She covered her reddening face, seeing her image being projected on one end of the field.

Baker leaned in, his mouth near her ear. "This is all you," he said.

The cup was shoved into her hands as the team members slung arms around her and waved. Ginny bit her bottom lip, her heart swelling as looked over to Harry, who was cheering with the rest of the crowd.

* * *

The England team grabbed Ginny and the rest of them, though Charlie bowed out, saying he had a night shift to go back to. They were taken to the celebration tent and drinks were immediately shoved into each of their hands.

"Come on, Weasley," the keeper yelled. "Let's see if you can still hold your liquor!"

Ginny was caught up in the excitement of the win, tossing back the drink in the mug. The others shouted out a cheer, someone slapping her on the back as she covered her mouth to keep from sputtering out the last of it. Ron and Harry both laughed, though Hermione seemed torn between the celebratory mood and concern.

"She's having fun," Ron told her, handing her a drink of her own.

There was laughter and music. Harry stayed next to her as as a second round of drinks came their way.

"We have some vodka pods!" Hoffman shouted, pulling out a container full of little clear balls of liquid.

"What are those?" Ginny asked.

"Shots for two people," Hoffman said, looking through the crowd. "Cerese! Come here!"

A pretty blonde woman made her way over with Hoffman holding up the pod. She lifted one side of her mouth and raised her eyebrows. She stood right in front of him. "Where'd you manage to wrangle those?"

"Been saving them," Hoffman replied, then looked at Ginny. "Watch and learn, Weasley."

He placed the clear pod at his lips and Cerese leaned in, pressing her puckered lips on the other side. Several members of the team chanted a countdown. "Five! Four! Three! Two! One!"

Just before everyone shouted the last number, the pair of them were sucking back the contents of the pod, the little object emptying and disappearing so their lips were smashed against one another. They kissed for a minute with the whoops of everyone around cheering them on. Ginny laughed and applauded.

Hoffman pulled away, whistling and tossing one to Ron. Hermione tilted her head and Ron raised his eyebrows. She rolled her eyes, but still leaned in, the pair of them taking a turn. One after another, the team showed off, though the general interest waned after the first few.

"How about it, Weasley," Hoffman said, holding one of the pods between his fingers towards her.

Ginny looked over to Harry, who was smiling at her, reserved and hopeful. She mulled over it for a moment, but reached out to snatch a pod from Hoffman's hand. She held it up to her lips, Harry stepping up and supporting it from the other side with his own. She lowered her hands down straight down, cracking her knuckles realizing how close his nose was to hers. Her heart seemed more prominent as the countdown began. The shouts of the crowd seemed to fade, seeing Harry's bright green eyes so focused on hers.

The number one barely registered as both drank deeply, swallowing down the last bit as the pod disappeared and Harry gently took Ginny's upper lip between his own. He moved slowly, like he thought this may be his one chance for them to connect in this way. He was pulling back when Ginny shot her hands up, setting them along his jaw and wrapping her fingers around his neck, drawing him back in, closing her eyes. Harry hesitated for one moment, then his arms were around her waist, his hands on the small of her back, pulling her in as Ginny deepened their kiss.

Others around them cheered, but Ginny couldn't hear them. She concentrated on how he tasted as her tongue trailed his lip, how her chest swelled when pressed against his. She pulled back only to adjust and kiss Harry again and again, until he pulled back, breathless and laid his forehead against hers, their bodies still tight with one another. The crowd had turned their attention to someone else and Ginny ran a finger down Harry's jaw to his chin, leaning in for one more taste, before grabbing his hand, dragging him through the city of tents, away and to their own space.

When they'd found their way, Ginny pulled Harry into her and Hermione's tent, pulling him back into her to resume where they'd left off. Harry ran his hands down, following her curves and gripping her to him.

Harry planted his lips along Ginny's jaw. She lifted her chin, exposing her neck to him as he took in her bared skin. She breathed deeply, gripping his neck and running her fingers into his hair. With a groan Harry pulled back a little. "We should take a beat," he said, breathlessly.

"I want to do it," Ginny said, still gripping onto him.

"Ginny… Ron will be back… and Hermione and…"

"Not that," Ginny said, looking into his eyes. "I want to try the pensieve."


	6. The Pensieve

_**The Pensieve**_

Harry sat across the pensieve from Ginny in his living room. They hadn't kissed since the night of the World Cup. Or more accurately, Ginny hadn't kiss Harry. He'd been tempted to try, but in the sober light of day it just didn't seem like a good idea. What did manage to stick was Ginny's resolve to try viewing Harry's memories in the pensieve.

It took time to make arrangements. First, Harry had to get in touch with McGonagall—the only person he knew with access to a pensieve—and then Ginny was encouraged by her brothers and Harry to spend a week with the Harpies in pre-training to see how she did. It was after Ginny's birthday dinner they took the floo back to his flat to finally try.

Ginny tapped a finger against her leg, like she always did when she was nervous.

Harry touched his wand to his temple, pulling one memory after another and placing them in the basin. He'd thought a lot about which memories to show. Nothing really huge, nothing that would be too jolting. Little moments and conversation. He thought about putting their engagement in there, but decided against it. When he'd finished he looked over at Ginny. She looked like she was steeling herself for battle.

"You're sure about this?" he asked. "You can change your mind, if you want." They had warned Ron this was happening, and Harry would join Ginny in the memories, just in case she needed to be pulled out, though he had his own reasons for wanting to be there.

She took a while before she responded. "Yes, I'm sure. I want to remember," she said.

Harry reached a hand over, covering her cheek as Ginny closed her eyes. She let him keep his hand there, swallowed and nodded before she opened them.

They both tilted in, falling into a memory of an afternoon at Hogsmeade when Ginny was finishing her last year of school. Harry travelled there just to spend the day with her. Their memory selves walked down the road hand in hand, discussing summer plans.

"...working for George's shop, so I'll be a lot closer," memory Ginny said, bouncing on the balls with her feet as she walked. "Mum's already getting all… Mum about it."

"Ron's been saying she's been pestering them to come visit more. Since your seventeenth, and all."

"Just like Ron to blame me for it," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

They strolled down a side street, finding a bench and sitting down. Harry pulled out a paper from his robes. Ginny looked curious and took it from him, then let out a sigh. "Where did you get this?"

"They had them at Quidditch Supply," Harry said. The real Ginny walked over to their memory counterparts, looking over their shoulder. The real Harry knew what it was already. An advertisement for Quidditch trials for the Holyhead Harpies.

"I'm not good enough for this," Ginny said.

"Sure you are," Harry said. "Besides, you'll never know if you don't try."

Memory Ginny bit her bottom lip, narrowing her eyes at the paper in consideration. "I'll think about it," she said.

"That's all I ask," memory Harry replied, leaning in to kiss her.

This memory shifted into a date on Diagon Alley, then another of Ginny coming to tell Harry she had made the Harpies, and of Christmas at the Burrow two years before.

Harry watched the real Ginny as one memory after another melted in and out. Her face was serious and set in concentration. Harry hoped to see some kind of emotional reaction, but she was a studious observer. He looked down to her hand, where Ginny twisted her engagement ring around and around on her finger, mindlessly.

Another few memories and Ginny turned to him. "I think that's enough," she said, the slightest quiver in her voice. Harry nodded. He grabbed her elbow and pulled them out of the pensieve together.

They sat in awkward silence for several minutes, Ginny closing herself off as she wrapped her arms around herself. "Mum is going to wonder where I'm at if I don't get home soon," Ginny said.

Harry nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, alright. Just let me know when you want to meet up next?"

Ginny nodded as she stood and walked to the fireplace. She reached for the floo powder and threw some into the fire. Ginny turned and for a moment, Harry thought she would lean in to kiss him. Instead, she reached out one hand to take his and squeezed. "Thank you," she said, then turned and entered the flames, disappearing.

* * *

Harry didn't see Ginny again for three days. There was a weekend assignment coming up. Even though it was the middle of the week, Harry had taken the day off and was pouring over another book Ron suggested. They had gone beyond the list Janae had given by now and with the variety of do's and don'ts given by different authors, he was starting to think none of them knew what they were doing. He was so lost in thought he didn't even hear the knock at his door.

"Master Harry," Kreacher said from the open doorway. Harry didn't look up from his book. "Master Harry, Miss Ginny is here to see you."

His head jerked towards the door of his office and he swallowed. She smiled at him, though it was tight. Harry stood up, putting down the book so the cover didn't show. "Hey," he said with a smile.

"Thanks Kreacher," Ginny said.

"Can I bring Miss Ginny a drink?"

"No," Ginny said. "I'm meeting Hermione soon, but thank you."

Kreacher bowed and left the office, Ginny turning to look at Harry.

"You… you alright?" Harry asked Ginny.

She nodded, but she didn't look alright. Ginny didn't look directly at Harry. "Ron said you had today off. I… I came to talk to you about… " she stopped and swallowed, finally meeting his eyes. Hers were glazed over with tears.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

Ginny reached with her right hand to her engagement ring. Harry's ears rung as she pulled it off and held the little gold ring out towards him. "I can't… it's not right…"

Harry's heart did a dead drop. Memories and moments of him and Ginny ran through his mind, stopping with an image of Ginny, standing above him, saying yes. One of the happiest he had ever experienced.

"No," Harry said. "No, Ginny—"

"Harry, I can't remember," she said, the tears spilling over. "And… and those memories the other night…"

"You don't have to remember," Harry said. He took a step closer, still ignoring the jewelry Ginny held out for him. "Ginny, we can still make this work."

"No, Harry," Ginny said. "I realized watching us… watching how we were… I loved you. Objectively I know it, but I can't remember how that felt."

Harry closed the distance between them, cupping Ginny's face in his hands as she tried not to sob. "I don't care," Harry said. His eyes shifted back and forth between her own. "I will do anything to help you feel that again."

"Harry," Ginny pleaded.

"No, I can't lose you, Ginny," Harry said.

"It's not fair to you," Ginny said quietly. "I can't make you wait, hoping for something that may never happen."

"I would wait a lifetime," he promised. "For you, I would wait ten."

"That's exactly why I can't let you," Ginny said, looking down and biting her bottom lip.

"Please… _please_ , don't…"

Slowly Ginny leaned in and pressed her lips gently to his. It didn't hold the passion and reckless abandon from the night of the World cup. It was a farewell, a gesture of apology. Harry closed his eyes, her face still in his hands. She placed her left hand over his right, rubbing her thumb against his wrist. He pulled back and kept his face close her hers, his eyes searching hers for something, anything, that indicated a change of mind. It didn't come.

Ginny pulled his hand away from her face and pressed the ring into his palm, closing his fingers around it. She kissed his knuckles as he shook his head. "I'm sorry," she whispered, then let go and ran from the house.

Harry stood stunned, the ring burning in his closed hand for several minutes. He shoved the ring into his pocket and paced his office back and forth. The whole flat seemed to be closing in on him. He left his office and as he passed by the red room—Ginny's red room—he knew he couldn't stay here a moment long.

Harry went into the office first. He sat at his chair and, with shaky hands, shuffled through stacks of paperwork. Though his intent was for this to be a distraction, nothing registered.

"Hey mate," Ron said, coming around the cubicle confused. "I thought you had the day off. I sent Ginny your way."

Harry scoffed, but didn't look up at him.

"What's wrong? What's got you messed up?"

Harry still didn't say anything, but made a new stack of files.

"Harry?"

"She dumped me!" he snapped, his head turning. "Alright?"

Ron looked shocked as Harry seethed. He turned back to the files at his desk, trying to alphabetize, but he couldn't think straight.

"I'm sorry, mate, I had no idea that's what she was doing. I would have at least warned you..."

Harry looked at Ron in disbelief. Ron was shaking his head in disappointment. "What do you mean, you would have _warned me_?"

"All I mean is it might have been easier if—"

"You wouldn't have talked her out of it?"

"I… well, Harry," Ron said. "You know I want you to work it out, but what good would it do if she feels—"

"Thanks a lot," Harry snapped. "Good to know my best mate is there to help."

"Harry," Ron said to Harry's retreating form.

Harry left the Ministry through the muggle entrance, walking along the London streets. He could only remember where the building was compared to St. Mungo's, but when he got to the cluster of offices, Harry pushed open the heavy doors and walked right to the front desk.

"Can I help you?" a mousy receptionist asked.

"I need to see Janae," Harry demanded.

"She doesn't have any openings and today she is—"

"Is she with a patient?" he asked.

Well no," the flustered receptionist said. "But you—"

Harry didn't wait, but walked past the desk.

"Sir! Sir, you can't bother her!"

Harry pounded on Janae's office door, but didn't wait for an answer. He pushed open the heavy wood. Janae sat behind her desk, looking up surprised.

"Mr. Potter, can I help you?"

"Yeah," he said. "You can explain to me what the bloody hell is going on with Ginny!"

The receptionist was at his shoulder. "Janae, I tried to tell him that he can't—"

"It's quite alright, Norma," Janae said calmly. "Have a seat, Harry."

He stayed put as Norma turned and left the two of them alone. Janae wrote a little longer, then placed her quill down and closed whatever book she was working on. She stood and walked over, flicking her wand and turning two armchairs towards each other. "You really are welcome to sit, Harry," she said.

Harry relented, walking towards the other chair. He sat, leaning on his knees with his elbows.

"How can I help you?"

"Ginny broke things off," he said, more emotion coming through than he had wanted. Janae pressed her lips together and nodded. "You knew she was going to, didn't you?"

"I can't share everything about our discussions, but she has had some anxiety on the matter."

"Bullshit!" Harry shouted, and he felt marginally better yelling at Janae. "You've been pushing her towards this since the beginning!"

"That is entirely untrue," Janae said. "Though I understand why you would feel that way."

"Don't think I didn't notice the way you looked at me, talked to me… like I was a problem!"

Janae didn't react, which infuriated Harry. He wanted someone to feel as terrible as he did. He wanted to see the pain in someone else's eyes. To know that someone else felt like he did.

"I will admit that when I have these sorts of cases and there is someone like you involved, it is difficult for me. The statistics aren't very good for relationships to make it through what you're going through."

"I don't care about statistics," Harry said. "I care about Ginny."

"I'm aware of that. And I know Ginny cares about you as well."

"Then why did she break off our engagement?"

Janae was evaluating him again, watching him like she was trying to make a decision. "Why do you think she broke it off?"

Harry tried to shake an answer from his brain. Everything Ginny said worked in a jumble around his heart, knowing only what she had said meant. He swallowed. "She's worried she won't remember our past," Harry answered. Janae gave an almost imperceptible nod. "But I don't care about our past! All I just want a future with her!"

Janae adjusted herself in her chair. "Harry, an engagement is nothing but steeped in the past," she pointed out. "It's the pinnacle of what has lead up to it. Same with a wedding. Think about the toasts, for example. Your family and friends would get up there and talk about memorable moments that make the two of you wonderful, but it carries quite a bit of weight with it. Ginny, the one person who should know those thing better than anyone, wouldn't remember those moments."

As she went silent, Harry felt everything bubble up inside of him. He felt like it was him, and not Ginny, who had been smashed by a bludger at full force. Harry pulled off his glasses, wiping at his eyes as tears began to flow, his wracking sobs beyond anything he could handle. Janae waited, leaning forward and putting a hand on his shoulder. He'd spent the last six weeks waiting this out, like a bad dream that had to end when he woke up. And now he had to face it. This wasn't going to end.

"Harry, I'm going to share something with you that I have never shared with anyone here, because I've never seen it as something that would help. But I think it might with you. Fifteen years ago I was on an fairly different path. I worked with various magical creatures and was dating a man from Ireland. We worked together and were making various plans. I was not yet engaged, but close. Very close.

"Then one day when he was working with a Thestral, he was thrown back and the impact of hitting a rock… well… I think you can extrapolate."

"You've been through this?" Harry croaked out. He wiped at his eyes.

"Yes," Janae said. "It wasn't as complete a memory loss, but he did not remember most of the five years or so prior to his accident. That included the few years we had been together. The other issue was the lack of support to help either of us and I did _everything_ wrong. I would get angry when he couldn't remember, I'd force him to look at pictures while I told him who people were, and eventually it fell apart. I finally looked into what I should have when it first happened and soon entered healing school to help others do what I had not."

"Did you get him back?" Harry asked.

"No," Janae said. "He married someone else and I found my husband, which has been good. But I thought, if I could help others do what I hadn't, I could make it right."

"I want to help her," Harry said earnestly. "I don't want to lose her."

"Then look to the future," Janae said. "Any possibilities lie there."

* * *

Ginny sat on the couch with her knees tucked up into her chest. She wiped her eyes against the fabric of her jeans, closing them. She'd spent a good part of the day helping Hermione with name cards and centerpieces. When Ginny told her, Hermione hugged her as she cried, whispering that it would be alright. Ginny could see how upset by the news she was, though. They talked about other things or remained silent while working.

As soon as she'd finished she came home and started to cry all over again. Since leaving Harry with the pensieve on her birthday, she had holed up in her room, trying everything she could. Once in awhile she felt a strange buzz around the nape of her neck. Ginny would sit on the edge of her bed, grasping her head trying to will something, _anything_ , to return. But it didn't come. None of it came. Not Hogsmeade with Harry, not playing on the team at school, not anything.

Ginny tried to imagine what that might be like for him. He obviously wanted her to remember. It must be hard to have given so much of yourself and for that person to not even know it. She tried to imagine what the future would be like, when their children asked how they met, or what their father was like when he was young—those little curiosities that she would have no way to answer. She thought about when she would be ready. Certainly not by December. But what if she asked him to put off that date, then never did come back around. What if, months or years from now, this all ended anyway?

The kitchen door at The Burrow opened and closed, Ginny wiped at her eyes, though her tear ducts had mostly run dry.

"Ginny, George is coming home tonight! I thought tonight we'd make some treacle tarts," Molly said from the kitchen. She was bustling around. "I thought I'd invite Andromeda and Teddy and—" she stopped as she came into the living room. "Ginny, what's wrong?"

The question seemed to refill her reserves so that Ginny couldn't help the tears that came again as she raised her left hand, void of the ring. Molly covered her mouth, looking shocked. "Why?" she asked.

"I had to," Ginny sobbed.

Molly walked over, sitting next to Ginny, letting her lean on her. "Ginny… but… oh, Ginny," Molly said.

Ginny ignored the disapproving tone, paying more attention to the comforting arm around her as she cried. She didn't expect all of them to understand. It was what kept her from doing this when she should have. Before she kissed Harry. Before she lead him on. Every so often, Molly would say her name or start a sentence, but she apparently couldn't wrap her head around what Ginny had done. Ginny was just glad there weren't complete sentences she had to argue against.

"Let's… let's go get dinner ready," Molly said. She squeezed Ginny's hand and stood, walking back into the kitchen, dazed.

They worked side by side, cooking in silence, unless Ginny had a question about what ingredient came next.

"Your favorite brother's here," George said as he arrived, wrapping his arms around Ginny. She breathed easier than she had for days in the moment, but it didn't last long. He seemed to sense something amiss and tried cracking a couple jokes, then gave up and set the table.

Arthur came home and they all sat down for dinner. The near silence continued, Arthur asking George about how things were and looking between Ginny and Molly, neither of which could look at the other. "You went to help Hermione today, didn't you Ginny?" Arthur finally turned his questions towards her.

"Yes," Ginny said, poking at her untouched chicken with a fork.

"How was it?" he asked.

Ginny looked at her mum, who looked almost as Harry had that morning. "I'm sorry, but I need to be excused," Ginny said, pushing back from the table.

No one responded as she left the table and went back up to her room. She grabbed her journal, letting her quill fly across the page with all the good reasons for her to let Harry go. Her writing was getting more and more shaky until she had to stop, trying to steady her hand.

"Ginny?" George called from the other side of her door.

"Come in," she said, staying on her bed.

George looked nervous as he peeked in. "Oh good, no glass," he said with a smirk.

"That's not funny," Ginny snapped.

"I must be off tonight," George retorted, closing the door behind him. He walked across the room and jumped onto Ginny's bed, making the whole thing bounce as he adjusted himself to sit beside her. "Mum told us."

"I _had_ to," Ginny said.

"Look, she's just upset because she knows how Harry must be right now," George said. "He's been part of the family since as long as we knew him, but… well… you're the one who has to make that decision, not us."

He said it sincerely and without the horror her mother had exhibited. She nodded.

"You're gutted over it, aren't you?"

"It doesn't matter, it's the right thing to do," she said. "I just… I don't want to have to tell everyone else."

"I can take care of that," George said. "Though I should warn you, they're probably going to think I'm taking the mickey."

"Thanks," Ginny said.

"And you do remember that Harry is Ron's best man?"

Of course she knew this. Ginny felt a jolt every time she imagined what it was going to be like in three weeks when they were spending that much time around each other. Harry would probably hate her by then. Or maybe he would realize she was right. What were the chances he'd find some other date for the wedding? He had every right to.

"I know," Ginny said. "I thought about waiting until after… but then…"

"Yeah," George said with a sigh. "Well as much fun as this is, I was thinking you could help me plan a gag for Ron's luggage. I'm thinking he's not going to trust me near it, so—"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Really?"

"Come on," George pleaded, "we have a standard to uphold!"

They talked about this for a couple hours, working out details of how to accomplish George's plan. He seemed very pleased with himself and Ginny felt that buzz at the back of her head. She'd have to ask Janae if perhaps she should be taking something for that.

"I almost forgot! How did things go with the Harpies?"

"Oh," Ginny sighed. "Well, the captain pulled me aside and said they may have to put me on the reserve team for the first few games, but thinks I would do fine."

"Excellent!" George exclaimed. "That's great news."

"I don't know," Ginny said. She was hesitant. There was already enough disappointment that she had broken off her engagement. "I didn't _love_ it like I thought I might. It wasn't as hard as I thought, either, but I keep trying to think of what it will be like to play all the time… it just doesn't seem like fun."

"You used to think it was fun—"

Ginny let out a frustrated huff and George tilted his head.

"—but if you don't anymore, you shouldn't do it."

Ginny looked over to George. He didn't seem upset. He didn't think she should still want to be on the Harpies. He was okay with her _not_ feeling the way she once had. "Thank you," she said.

"So what do you want to do?" George asked. He had taken out his wand, levitating the quill on her desk.

"I have no idea," Ginny admitted. If only she had a project, perhaps she could get her mind off of Harry. "I still love Quidditch, but I really don't want to play that much."

"There's lots you can do with that. You could work for the league or even the Ministry's sports department, though that's mostly getting funding. There are also staff jobs for individual teams. You could see what the Harpies have open?"

"Maybe," Ginny said, mulling over what he was saying.

"You'll figure it out," George said. "There's no rush. You could go work in Quidditch Quality Supply in the meantime. Maybe… live with me for a bit?"

Ginny perked up at this. She loved her parents, but she was starting to realize there was nothing here for her besides endless, and seemingly fruitless, attempts at recovery. "Really?"

"Sure," George said. "I mean, you should probably check that you're cleared medically or whatever, but it is an option."

"Alright," Ginny said. "I'll… I'll think about that."


	7. The Wedding

_**The Wedding**_

"Hey, Harry," Hermione said gently, walking into the living room.

He sat on his couch, his hands wrapped around his neck, looking down at the ground. Janae had spent a long time with him. Longer than he deserved, the way he'd stormed in there. They talked about the pensieve, for one. Janae felt Ginny's reaction to those memories was similar to the photographs, even though she had learned to reign in her most erratic and panicky reactions. He felt like an idiot, though Janae assured him there was no way to know how that would go unless they had tried it.

Janae also had more reading for him—this time articles. A couple specific chapters in books she suggested before were brought up to re-read, but mostly several articles now sitting in a folder on the coffee table in front of him. She said to not look at specifics of the cases and how they were resolved, but at the thought processes of the patients instead. He hadn't started on them yet, needing to clear his mind first.

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked.

Harry looked up. Ron and Hermione were there, both looking worried.

"Yeah, great," he said sarcastically, leaning back.

Hermione hurried over, sitting next to him as Ron walked towards the kitchen.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry," Hermione said.

Harry shrugged. He didn't feel much like taking any condolences at the moment. It was, in fact, the thing he dreaded most about the whole ordeal. How many times would he have to endure pitying glances or useless words? What he wanted was a rallying cry, not a funerary march.

"It's not over," Harry said truthfully. Not that he'd say this to just anyone. Ron came back in the room, handing Harry a firewhiskey, a second in his hand for himself. "I went to see Janae and I think... I think it's not over yet."

"That's the spirit," Ron said. "She was obviously coming around before, well... before the pensieve."

Harry nodded, taking a drink.

"And I didn't mean it to sound like I wouldn't have tried to talk some sense into Ginny," Ron said quickly. "Just that... I can't really make that kind of decision for her. As much as I'd like to."

"I know," Harry said. "I was just a little wound up earlier."

"And when I mentioned she didn't _have_ to stay engaged a few weeks ago, I never thought she would mean to break it off alto—"

"You what?" Harry said. The earlier fire inside him that had almost entirely waned flared up at once. All day he'd blamed himself for convincing Ginny to view the memories. He had been certain his daydream of her own memories flooding back while watching his made him unable to see what was best for Ginny and himself. But even if he'd turned the screw, he now knew Hermione had tapped it in first. "You _told_ her to break it off?"

"Well, no, not exactly that," Hermione said. She was flushing pink and looking between Harry and Ron nervously, as though she hoped Ron would help. "You just... you should have seen her, any time your wedding or things about it came up."

"So you told her just to ditch me?"

"No, Harry, no! Of course I didn't say that!"

"Out!" Harry shouted, standing and stepping away from them. "Both of you, out!"

"Mate, Hermione wouldn't have—"

"Get out!" he shouted again.

The two of them were still stumbling after him as he tried to walk away from them down the hall. "Harry, you shouldn't be alone," Hermione said.

"Well, that's exactly what I am, thanks to you!" he turned and shouted. Hermione stopped, her eyes filling with tears. "Kreacher!"

The old house elf appeared in front of him. "Master Harry? You called?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Please take these two out and don't let them back in here again."

Kreacher popped so he stood between Ron and Hermione, reaching up to grip each of their arms. Ron struggled for a moment, but soon Kreacher had an iron grip on him.

"Harry, don't be a—"

But he didn't hear what Ron thought he was being as the whole group of them were disapparated by Kreacher, who took a couple minutes before he came back. "Anything else Master Harry?"

"No, thanks Kreacher," Harry said. "Please just… I'm going to go think for a bit."

Harry turned and walked back to his bedroom and fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. His mind shifted from one depressing thought to another until he grabbed a pillow, pressing it over his face and growling.

Kreacher had taken his job of keeping Ron and Hermione out brilliantly. They tried the next couple evenings to come by. They would try talking through the front door. "Oh! Kreacher!"

"You will not bother Master Harry!" he said.

"Ouch! Stop! Alright, alright," Ron said.

Harry couldn't help but take pleasure from it. He went back to the book in his hand. Hermione tried to catch him on his Saturday shift at the Ministry and he put a charm around his cubicle space, shutting her out. She ran off crying after ten minutes of trying.

It wasn't until Sunday night that Ron apparated into Harry's flat. Harry was in his bedroom, laying back with Ginny's ring between his fingers, staring at it. He heard the tell-tale crack of apparition and reached over for his wand.

"Harry?" Ron's voice came.

Harry growled and pushed himself up and off his bed. "How did you get in here?" he yelled, stopping once he was saw Ron, standing there, a case of bottles hanging from one hand, at the end of the hall. "Where's Kreacher? Why didn't he stop you?"

"We sent him a box of chocolate cauldrons filled with a sleeping draught," Ron said.

Harry looked at him, mouth agape. Kreacher did have an affinity for chocolate, something Ron and Hermione knew well. "What do you mean, _we_? Hermione wouldn't drug a house elf."

"It was her idea," Ron said. "No really, it was. You should have heard her. _I suppose this really is the only way, since he won't even look at us… besides, Kreacher could use some rest at his age_."

The impression of Hermione's voice, a perfect mix of justification and worry, was so spot on that Harry, in spite of himself, grinned. He cleared his throat, scowling again. "Well it's not good enough. You're not welcome here," Harry said.

"Look, we just want to talk with you. I mean, how long is the silent treatment going to continue? You even coming to the wedding anymore?"

Harry suddenly realized he hadn't even thought that far ahead. The plans had been in the works for so long that the wedding still seemed like some distant event. Even the suggestion of him not being there twisted his stomach. If he were honest with Ron, he would admit that was an unthinkable possibility.

"I suppose that's what Hermione really cares about. Making sure I'm in the wedding party photos?" he snapped instead.

"No she doesn't," Ron said emphatically. "She already said if you wanted to back out she'd understand and I could have George stand in. But come on, Harry, you know if he's right behind me, George will end up using his wand to give me a wedgie halfway through the ceremony. After everything we've been through, I was really hoping you'd spare me having to stand there saying my vows with my pants up my ass."

Harry didn't move, but scratched his head, looking away from Ron.

"I went out of my way to get some of Rosemerta's mead. Let's talk, get drunk, and then you punch me if you'd like," Ron said after Harry's sustained silence.

"Fine," Harry said. "But I get to hex you too."

They went into the living room, each taking a bottle. They talked about other things for a while first. Harry didn't want to talk about Ginny. Not right away. He'd been able to swallow it all down, but having to say the words might cut him up again. Of course it couldn't be avoided forever.

"So what are you planning to do about Ginny?" Ron asked.

Harry emptied his first bottle and grabbed a second. "I don't know, exactly," he said. "I keep reading different stories from these things Janae gave me, and just when I think I have something, another account shows that thing to have made someone worse."

"Anything I can help with?" Ron asked, leaning forward like he was ready to leap into action.

"Just… tell me if you hear anything from Ginny," Harry muttered.

Ron nodded. "Mum said she's been crying all week," Ron said.

Had it been different circumstances… had this been just some girl who ditched him or broke it off… had there not been this massive block that no one could control, Harry wondered how he would react to that news. Would he feel satisfied that she felt bad? Would he feel indignant that she would cry over a decision she had made?

Instead, this additional news just made him incredibly sad for Ginny, not to mention making him entirely helpless. What they needed, he thought, was a fresh start. _Look to the future_ , Janae had told him. Something else she said during that very first meeting returned to him. Something about creating a history with a person.

"Ginny also wants to move to Diagon Alley with George and start working," Ron added. "Mum is in a right state over it."

"Really?" Harry sat up. As he lived near London, Ginny would be a lot closer in Diagon Alley. Not that distance mattered that much with apparating. "When is she doing that?"

"Ginny's still in negotiations with Mum over it. They're supposed to talk to Janae about it too, but not until after the wedding I'm guessing. With everyone coming into town, it will be busy anyway. Hopefully keep them all off of it a bit."

"Yeah, hopefully," Harry said mindlessly. "Where's Ginny going to work?"

"No idea," Ron said. "I don't think she knows either. That's one of Mum's issues with the plan."

They both sat there silently for a while, Harry thinking of Ginny. He noticed Ron giving him glances every now and again, obviously waiting to see where they stood now. They both drank some more, talked about cases from work, and passed most of the night away. Ron stop, getting ready to leave around midnight.

"Wait, I haven't punched you yet," Harry protested, standing up to stretch.

"Oh, er, you still wanted to do that, huh?"

"Absolutely," Harry replied.

* * *

Ginny woke up the morning of Hermione and Ron's wedding with a cacophony of feelings ringing in her ears. First was excitement. The wedding had been one of the biggest things she had been involved with. At least since she could remember. She looked at the clock. Seven a.m. She pushed herself up in the bed in the Granger's house. She had stayed there the night before, sharing Hermione's childhood room as they talked well into the night. The hairdresser would be here in an hour. This was another part of the wedding Hermione's mother had wanted to be involved in, so the woman coming was a muggle. Ginny's dad had been explicitly told he was too busy to come see how such things were done "the muggle way."

This would be the fun part of the day for Ginny, though. All the setting up and getting ready and being with Hermione, who she was feeling more and more sisterly towards. Even with Hermione's horrible cousin (who was sleeping in the guest bedroom), Ginny was looking forward to the morning.

It was the rest that had Ginny mixed up. It wasn't until the week before she realized just how hard this would be. She had been fixated on the fact that she would have to see Harry again. There had been a rehearsal two days before and Harry had kept to himself, with Molly bustling around issuing so many orders there wasn't time for them to speak. Then Hermione's hen party started directly after, so Ginny hadn't had the chance to break the ice with Harry since she gave him back the ring.

This she could prepare for, though. Then it hit her—there would be lots of people there, many who knew her for a long time. People who she wouldn't remember. She went to see Janae to talk about this. The fear of a panic attack in the middle of the reception became very real for Ginny.

"I don't want to ruin everything for them," Ginny told Janae.

"Then I think you have it in you to make that happen," Janae assured her.

Two months, nearly, and Ginny rarely let the anxiety take her over completely, but that didn't mean it was gone, and the wedding was exactly the type of place where it could happen again. "What if a friend I don't remember tries to talk to me?" Ginny asked.

"What do you think you could do about that?" Janae asked in return.

More and more of their meetings consisted of this question. She was constantly pushing it back to Ginny to figure out a way to combat her concerns.

"Just… tell them I don't remember, I guess," Ginny said.

"That sounds like a solution," Janae said. "It may open you to more questions. Do you feel ready for that?"

She hadn't, but she was almost ready for that now. Ginny had spent the rest of the week writing through ways she could respond. It occurred to her she didn't have to be the only one to answer questions. She could deflect, some, by asking her own questions. This bolstered her confidence that the wedding would be fine.

Only when she woke in the morning, she was afraid she couldn't remember everything she had worked through.

"You're up already," Hermione yawned, waking as well. "Let's go get some breakfast."

The rest of the house was already buzzing with people. Molly was there, cooking frantically, partly because she couldn't use her wand with Hermione's extended family there. There would be enough memory modifying done later that it had been agreed to do as many of the activities the muggle way as possible. Ginny noticed her mother discreetly point her wand at the eggs to stir them as she was caught up using a blender for something else, though.

The whole morning passed in a blur. Ginny had been forced to sit after the hairdresser set Hermione's hair in large curlers. Her own hair was curled and set quickly and she started on her own makeup while Hermione was worked on. "I've got my hair myself," Bree said when the hairdresser asked if she was next in line. "I like to always look smart." Then they were shuffled to another location to have their nails done, Bree making digging comments the entire time. Hermione was entirely impervious to them, however, beaming and excited at everything else going on.

Never so much as when everyone stood around her in the reception hall room, dressed and set, her parents, Molly, and Ginny gushing over her, as Bree examined her nails without anything to say.

"I never thought this would be so hard," her dad choked, wiping at his eyes.

"Oh, Dad, don't cry," Hermione instructed, reaching in for him.

Ginny grabbed the bouquet, handing it to Hermione as Arthur popped his head into the room.

"Molly, dear, we need to take our seats," he said. "Everything is about to start."

Mrs. Granger kissed Hermione as her and Molly followed Arthur out of the room and into the hall. A few minutes later the rest were all ushered into the lobby, to be arranged for the procession.

Ginny's breath caught for a moment, seeing Harry standing there, grinning and handsome in a tuxedo. He stepped over to Hermione first, giving her a hug as Hermione's Aunt directed Victoire to the front of the line, holding her small basket of flower petals. Next she pulled Harry over, setting him and Ginny side by side in front of the others. George was set up to accompany Bree, then Hermione and her father last.

Harry offered his arm and Ginny took it, smiling and looking down. He leaned in. "You look beautiful," he whispered into her ear and her heart fluttered.

Ginny smiled up at him, wondering if even doing this was fair to him, if encouraging such comments would make it harder for him to move on. It certainly wasn't doing anything for her resolve.

The ceremony was lovely and simple. Ron looked gobsmacked as he watched Hermione, though he seemed to have found his words when it was his turn to say his vows. There were lots of loud cheers and one of the wizards in the crowd shot off sparks once they were pronounced husband and wife, Ron dipping Hermione back in an unabashed kiss. Other signs of magic filled the hall, all sense of muggle presence forgotten in the moment.

An hour of pictures followed, at least, and then they were all off to the reception, Ginny and Harry both being asked to help with various tasks, saving Ginny from any uncomfortable conversation just yet. The party was in full swing before Ginny followed Hermione and Ron into the space, others cheering at their entrance.

Ginny's stomach sank as she looked around and saw Bree standing beside Harry, leaning in and laughing, obviously delighted. He was smiling back at her, shrugged and said something. _No_ , she shook herself, _he deserves to move on_. But did it really have to be with the likes of _Bree_? Didn't Harry deserve someone better than someone like her? Bree grabbed his hand, pulling him over to the dance floor as Ginny watched, clenching her jaw.

"Ginny, let's dance," George said cheerfully.

"Okay," she said, a half hearted smile.

After George, Percy danced with Ginny, then they all paused, watching Hermione and Ron cut the cake. Ginny looked around for George again, but he was deep in conversation with a pretty girl at one of the tables. Ginny thought maybe she needed to find Neville or Luna, two more of the guests she knew were somewhere in the crowd.

"May I have a dance?" someone asked at her shoulder.

Beside her was a tall, dark skinned man with dimples and a friendly smile. "Sure," she said, trying to cycle through her mind everything she had decided to do to keep from having trouble.

"It's been a while," he said, taking one hand and putting another at her waist. "How are you doing Ginny?"

"I'm… fine," she said. _Tell him_ , she reminded herself, realizing he knew her. "I… I'm sorry, but I don't remember who you are."

He didn't look surprised, though his smile fell slightly. "That's alright," he said. "My name's Dean. Dean Thomas. Neville actually told me about… you know… what happened. I mean I read about it, but they didn't make it sound all that bad."

"Oh." It was the only word Ginny seemed able to find in that moment.

"I guess I just hoped I was an exception, but it's alright," he said quickly.

"How did you know me?"

"School. And… well, we dated for a bit."

"Oh."

"What have been doing lately?"

Ginny let out a breath. This she could do. "Not much, really," she answered. "I'm going to be moving to Diagon Alley soon. What about you? What do you do?"

"I'm up in Scotland doing some Muggle Relation work, actually," Dean replied. "I'm hoping it will feed into something else, but it's been good."

They chatted through the song and by the end, Ginny was feeling much more relaxed around him than when they started. He walked over to say hi to others and Ginny was pulled by her dad to talk to some aunts and uncles. They were less easy to handle, discussing the details of her condition as though she weren't there. This was followed by a few other students, though Neville was there this time to introduce them, and then George pulled over the girl he had been talking to most of the night, telling Ginny her name was Angelina.

"I still can't believe how long it's been since I've seen you!" George exclaimed. Although he was introducing Ginny, his focus was entirely on Angelina.

"I've been working on magical agriculture in island countries," Angelina explained to Ginny. "But yes, it's definitely been too long." She smiled back at George. "Oh look! Hermione's about to throw the bouquet!"

Ginny looked over and before she knew it, Angelina was dragging her over to the crowd of girls. Hermione was watching behind her, catching Ginny's eye. Ginny shook her head no, but Hermione just gave her a look, turned around and threw it. Several girls all dived for it. Bree elbowed someone out of the way, which was the only thing that made Ginny reach over and snatch it away before Bree's fingers could wrap around the base. Ginny tried to look innocent as Bree attempted a cool look of indifference.

Hermione squealed, laughing as she came up to hug Ginny. "I'm glad you got it," she laughed, then leaned in and lowered her voice. "I heard her telling my uncle that she's getting serious with this guy and was meant to catch it."

Ginny felt more pleased with this, until she turned and saw that Bree had found Harry again. She certainly didn't look like someone who had a serious boyfriend. Ginny walked over to the tables and gave the bouquet to Victoire. "You're the flower girl, after all," she said to her delighted niece and sat with Bill's family, watching others as she got that buzzing feeling at the nape of her neck again. Janae hadn't been too concerned with it after checking a couple other things. Ginny rubbed the spot looking around and seeing Dean dancing with Luna, who was dazed and kept stepping on his toes. Dean would wince, but continued, catching Ginny's eye once. He smiled at her and shrugged.

An image came to her mind. An image of a tree and a summer breeze next to a lake. Dean's arm was wrapped around her, holding onto her own as his other hand held a quill, drawing a design onto her forearm. Ginny rubbed at her neck a little more as the buzz became stronger. There was a word at the tip of her thoughts, but she couldn't quite grasp it.

"I do believe it's my turn for a dance."

Ginny looked up and there was Harry, no trace of nerves or concern, a grin with his hands easily in his pockets. Bill and Fleur were pointing towards George and whispering as he danced with Angelina. They were apparently unaware Harry was there with them.

"I guess," Ginny said, looking over to where Bree now glared at them sulkily. Ginny was torn between the satisfaction that Harry was away from the daft twit and the knowledge that she could easily be talked into doing what she knew she shouldn't under his gaze. Ginny stood and took Harry's outstretched hand, being lead to the floor.

Her skin tingled where he touched, unlike it did with anyone else who she had danced with tonight. She watched around them, rather than looking up at Harry. George and Angelina had stopped dancing themselves, chatting intently in a corner. Charlie was dancing with their mother now, as Arthur sat at a table chatting with some of Hermione's muggle relatives. And Ron and Hermione had no eyes for anything or anyone else, wrapped up in each other and swaying gently.

"I heard you're moving to London," Harry said, pulling Ginny's attention back.

Ginny's head turned, her eyes meeting his and her heart skipping a beat. She looked over his shoulder. "Yes," she said. "Mum was pretty against it, but I'll stay with them on the weekends, so she's accepting it." Ginny looked up again. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Harry said with a smile. "Busy with work. Less busy, I think, now that this will be done."

"You'll be able to catch up on other things now, I'm sure."

"Well I was only hoping to catch up with you."

Ginny felt a lump in her throat. She shook her head swallowing it down. "Harry, I… I can't—"

"Ginny, I know," he said. "I mean, I understand. Sort of. But I've been thinking a lot, _a lot_ , and what if we start over?"

"Harry—"

"No, it can work," Harry said.

Ginny licked her lips and pressed them together, looking around again, grasping for her reasoning. "I know I haven't been entirely with it," she said. "But I always saw it, Harry."

"Saw what?"

"How badly you want me to remember," Ginny replied, then looked at him directly again. His expression didn't change as he listened. "I could see it in your face. Mum… mum's the same sometimes. And George a bit, too."

"Not Ron?" Harry asked.

Ginny shrugged. "Maybe he does want me to remember, but… it's this look the rest of you have. Like I'm not the person you expected to show up."

Harry was quiet for a while as they swayed. _There_ , Ginny thought. _I've finally convinced him this is better for him._

"I can stop that look," Harry said.

Ginny closed her eyes and shook her head, taking a steadying breath. "I don't know…"

"Just give me a chance," Harry said. "Not with engagement, just a chance to be with… with the person who showed up."

Ginny hadn't even realized they'd stopped moving until Charlie was on the mic, announcing that the bride and groom would be leaving. Ginny broke away from Harry, the two of them moving with the mass of people to form a gauntlet. The wizards held out their wands as the juggles held little bottles of bubbles—generally drunk enough or confunded enough by now to not register this unusual addition to the party—and everyone shouted and cheered as Ron and Hermione ran through their midst, sparks flickering and bubbles floating all around them, laughing as Ron helped Hermione into the back of a car, following right behind.

After they were gone, the euphoria of the event died down. There were still old friends and family, clustering in groups to chat, but the music was gone and a few people were already starting on the cleanup.

Ginny stayed outside. She'd done well, she noted. She'd only come close to the panic once, maybe twice. Mostly she was irritated by the extended family's reaction to her circumstances. Still, now that Ron and Hermione were gone, Ginny felt the exhaustion weigh on her. She pulled off her shoes, walking towards a street lamp and looking to where the car had driven off. She was happy to breath in the fresh night air rather than rejoin the crowd.

"What is a pretty girl like you doing out here all alone?" Harry asked.

Ginny hadn't even noticed him walk towards her. His dark figure came closer, leaning on the other side of the lamp post. "Harry, I don't know how else to say it…"

"You must have me mistaken for someone else," Harry said, shaking his head. "Though, coincidentally, my name is also Harry."

Ginny looked at him narrowing her eyes. She wondered for a moment if she'd been hit by another bludger without realizing it. "Harry—"

"It's good to meet you," Harry said. "Lovely dress, by the way, did you just come from the theater?" He was smiling at her.

Ginny looked at him. "My brother's wedding, actually," Ginny said.

"Oh funny, I just came from a wedding myself," Harry said.

"Harry, I don't know what you're playing at, but—"

"I told you I could start over," Harry said, whispering as he leaned in. "Besides, I think I saw you checking me out in there while we were dancing."

Ginny laughed and rolled her eyes. She looked down at her hands, twisting them as she thought. A new start. It was tempting, but was it a mistake? "Ginny," she said, looking at him. "My name is Ginny Weasley."

Harry reached out and took her hand, shaking it politely. "Nice to meet you, Ginny Weasley," he said. "Where are you from?"

"I'm from a small village in Devon," Ginny said. "But I'll be moving to the London area soon."

"Well, that's convenient," Harry said. "I live around London, too. And… I was hoping you might let me take you out, sometime."

Ginny's heart and head were arguing profusely. She looked around, then back at Harry, his eyebrows raised, waiting for an answer. "Alright," she finally replied. "But I should warn you, I'll be living in a flat with my brother and he can be awfully overprotective."

"Thanks," Harry said. "I'm pretty sure I can win him over."

Ginny looked down with a grin. "Well, I'm sure I'll be called over soon to help with all this clean up."

"You and me both," Harry said. He took Ginny's hand again, lifting it to his lips. "It was excellent to meet you," he added, winked, then walked off towards the reception.

Ginny just hoped she wasn't making a mistake.


	8. First Date

**_First Date_**

The owl fluttered through the window as Ginny sat down for breakfast. George was working the shop and left hours before, but Ginny had been up until the early hours of the morning unpacking and looking through what she had written for her resume. Of course her brother Percy had helped her draft it. Apparently Quidditch teams didn't really look at these, so Ginny hadn't bothered with an update since she was seventeen. Percy let her know what exactly to put down.

"But… what am I going to say if they ask about these jobs?" she asked him. "I can't actually remember them."

"We'll practice some typical answers that work," Percy said. "Most employers are going to be getting a feel for you anyway, and you've always been good at winning people over."

Ginny just wished that was enough. She could still imagine someone asking what she had learned about working in a shop. "Oh, well, I don't actually know how that was," she would reply. "But I did it once, so I'm sure I could figure it out again." Certainly that wouldn't reflect well.

George assured her she could work for him as long as she wanted, but Ginny couldn't help think there wasn't much point in moving here just to continue fully dependent on a family member. She did tell George it was a comfort to her, which seemed to make George very happy.

Ginny reached out for the owl and took the letter. She handed the little bird a piece of her toast crust and opened the seal.

 _Dear Ginny,_

 _Have you moved to London yet? Ventured around the city much? If not, I was hoping I could be your tour guide… maybe Friday? 6:00? Let me know._

 _Harry  
(The bloke you met at the lamp post)_

Ginny smiled, looking over to the owl. It looked back and tilted its head like it was waiting to see if she'd say yes to the date. Ginny offered it another small piece of toast and got up to find parchment and a quill.

 _Dear bloke I met at the lamp post,_

 _I would love a tour of London! See you Friday._

 _Ginny_

She wrapped it around the owl's leg, gave it one more bit of bread for the road, and it was off, leaving Ginny to her thoughts of how the rest of this day would go. Ginny spent an exorbitant amount of time making sure her hair looked right, her clothes were smart, and she muttered potential answers to herself on her way out the door.

Ginny's first stop was to the Daily Prophet. She clutched her folder filled with resumes and sample bits of writing and entered the front doors, ducking as an owl swooped through the door with her. Rows of desks were filled with typewriters, though some had wizards and witches behind them and others typed independently. Ginny watched as one witch looked at the typewriter on her right, reading the paper coming out of it.

"Utter rubbish," she muttered, shaking her head.

Ginny walked up to a desk in the center. A middle aged witch with small rectangular glasses hanging on the tip of her nose held up a finger for Ginny to wait as she waved her wand, watching various stacks of paper lift and shuffle. "How can I help you?" she finally asked, then looked up to Ginny.

"I had an appointment with Mrs. Nye," Ginny said.

"Upstairs, second door on your right," the woman instructed, looking back down at the piles on her desk, picking a paper off the top.

"Thank you," Ginny said. She turned and followed the stairs up, dodging another owl shooting down the hallway at the top. At the second door on the right, she stopped and knocked.

"Come in," a woman said.

Ginny pushed the door open. Mrs. Nye stood behind her desk, a woman around forty with dark brown hair tied up in a perfect twist. She held two boards, each with an image attached.

"Ms. Weasley, right on time," she said. "Which of these two makes a more dynamic advertisement?"

She turned the two boards to Ginny. They were both variations of the same idea, both advertisements for Patchwell's Broom Handle Polish. "The one on the right," Ginny said.

"I thought that too," Nye replied, tossing them both down. "Have a seat."

Ginny had to clear off a stack of other boards and papers from one of the chairs, carefully placing them on the growing stack in the second chair in the office. Mrs. Nye sat behind her desk, looking over at Ginny. "So why do I have the pleasure to meet with you today, Miss Weasley?"

"Ginny," she replied. "Just call me Ginny. And as I will not be returning to the field this season I am looking for a new position. I have always enjoyed writing and wanted to see the potential of working as a correspondent for the Prophet."

Her heart pounded as Nye evaluated her, narrowing her eyes and puckering her lips to one side. "Do you have any writing samples?" she asked.

Ginny pulled out her folder, trying to hide the fact that her hands were shaking as she handed over a few pages. Nye took them, leaning back in her chair and tilting her head onto her hand.

After her conversation with George, Ginny thought a lot about what she could do that involved Quidditch without playing it. She couldn't imagine herself working for the teams as he said. Planning, administration, and public relations held no interest for her. Then she thought of this and the idea stuck. Ginny spent her bits of spare time looking at omnioculars she had from the past year of games and writing mock articles about them. The first couple took ages, as Ginny was continually distracted by the fact that one of the players was her. She got the same sinking, hopeless, lost feeling as when she looked at photographs or Harry's memories, but she pushed herself beyond it, treating the Ginny in these games as just another player until she had managed four or five articles.

"Well, you certainly have a grasp of grammar and structure, which is more than I can say for half the people I see," Nye said. Ginny held her breath. "And it would certainly sell for a fan favorite like you to be writing, but these... "

Nye sighed and Ginny felt disappointment swirl in the pit of her stomach. She was an idiot to think she could just walk into the Prophet and start on this whole new career when she couldn't even remember the old one. Forget the fact that she hadn't been published before anyway.

"I understand." Ginny swallowed.

"They're just so… bland," Nye continued, despite Ginny's already admitted defeat. "You're _known_ around here for your big personality, but that's not coming through at all. It's shocking actually."

Ginny felt smaller and smaller. Nye stood up and flicked her wand at a shelf full of folders. They moved down one by one, every so often one of them would fly into Nye's hands. She finally turned back to Ginny and tapped the pile, creating a second that looked identical.

"Read these," she instructed. "There's a scrimmage pitch just south of London where a lot of local leagues play. I'll give you a press pass so you have access. Get some flair in your writing and owl me with more samples."

Ginny's spirits lifted suddenly, sitting up straight and taking the folders. "Absolutely, thank you," she said.

"And if you'd like to give the Prophet an exclusive about the incident, I'm sure we could find funds to pay for that," Nye added, giving Ginny a significant look. "There are quite a few theories floating around out there about why you aren't returning, you know. It'd be good to set the record straight."

Ginny blushed and gave a small grin, nodding politely. "I'll think about it," she said, knowing that was the last thing in the world she wanted to do.

After leaving the Prophet, Ginny made rounds to several shops. Many weren't hiring. Their busiest time, next to Christmas, had just finished as the students all left on September first. They would take her resume to "keep on file", but she felt worse and worse after each shop. She had a little hope with Quidditch Quality Supply until she saw several of the customers pointing towards her and whispering to one another.

"We'd love to have an interview," the manager said. "Would you mind signing some of our remaining _Team England_ shirts? They'd fly off the shelf with that."

Ginny set up a time to interview, but she left knowing she needed to find something else. Nothing sounded worse than being around constant reminders of a time of life she couldn't remember. Besides, she had a hunch that she wouldn't want to work under that type of attention even if she could remember playing for the Harpies and England.

Before giving up for the day, Ginny's eye caught on a "help wanted" sign in the Magical Menagerie shop. "One more," she told herself, walking in through the door. An exhausted manager sighed as he pushed a lanky, white cat into its cage, the animal scratching at his arms.

"Just a mo," he shouted, then muttered in his efforts. "Damn… stubborn… get... in…"

Ginny hurried over, helping to shut the cage door once the cat was fully inside.

"Thanks," the manager wiped at his brow and turned to Ginny. "How can I help you?"

"I was wondering if I could leave you my resume," Ginny asked. "I… I saw your sign, and—"

"Do you like animals?"

"I, er, yes," Ginny said.

"Can you be here tomorrow at nine?"

Ginny nodded enthusiastically.

"Good," he said. "We need someone that can care for the animals. Food and water, mostly, but making them look good so people will want to buy them as well. As you saw with that monster, it can get a little hairy. Also, it's only part time, but you'll get paid two galleons, five sickles an hour. Still up for it?"

"Yes," Ginny blurted out.

"Great," he said with a heavy sigh of relief. "See you tomorrow then."

Ginny smiled, leaving the menagerie feeling better about having come. Part time work would give her the chance to go through the articles and keep her evenings free to watch the local games Nye suggested. And maybe George would let her pay some rent. With her savings and a little money to start, Ginny could really make a life for herself here in London.

* * *

The sun was barely lowering when Harry made his way up the back steps of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes on Friday evening. He had hardly been able to concentrate all day, thinking about his date with Ginny.

It struck him that this was the first time he had to deal with the normal process of dating. He had kissed Cho before their disastrous Hogsmeade date, and everything just fell together with Ginny, before and after the war. But now Harry felt like a hundred worms wriggled in a mass in his stomach. He supposed this was what most people felt before a first date, only his was compounded with the anxiety of what was at stake if he didn't stick to the pretense of starting completely over.

Harry knocked on the door, rubbing his hands together as he waited. Ginny cracked it open first with a small smile.

"Hi Harry," she said, opening the door wider.

Harry's heart faltered. She was wearing the same green dress as the night he proposed. He swallowed.

"Everything alright?" Ginny asked, her smile falling a little.

Harry thought about what she said at the wedding about a look he tended to have. One he didn't even know he made. He was far too transparent for his own good. It didn't matter what dress it was, Harry told himself, and he had to remember that.

"Yeah," he said, smiling. "Yeah, it's great. You look lovely."

Ginny's smile came back as she looked down, blushing. "Thank you," she said. "You look nice, too."

"Shall we?" Harry asked, stepping aside to give Ginny space to walk down the steps.

"So what will this tour consist of, exactly?" Ginny asked.

"Muggle London," Harry answered. "Hyde Park and the London Eye—"

"Eye?" Ginny asked. "The city has eyes?"

Harry laughed. "Not quite. It's a ferris wheel… like… a giant wheel that takes people around and up and… well, you'll see. It's a muggle thing."

Ginny nodded and followed along as they made it out to the street and to the underground. Harry already had passes and showed Ginny how to get through and onto the train. They sat beside one another as others crowded around.

"Is it always this full?" Ginny asked, looking around them.

"Sometimes, but I don't take it much. Not at all, really."

"Are there better ways to get around the city then?" Ginny asked, looking around as more bodies shoved themselves in.

"Apparating, mostly, but I thought the full muggle experience was needed," Harry replied with a smile.

At the next stop, Harry gave up his seat to an elderly woman and Ginny gave hers up as well so that they stood close, sharing the same pole in the middle of the train. In another couple stops the amount of people thinned out. Harry reached out to steady Ginny each time the train slowed when the masses couldn't help.

Ginny laughed. "I guess I'm only well balanced in mid-air."

"This one's ours," Harry said at last.

They found a shop where they grabbed boxes of fish and chips and found a bench in Hyde Park, overlooking a pond as they talked. Ginny told him about her new job.

"They have _so many_ animals," Ginny said. "I guess the last few workers each quit after a couple weeks, so Jimmy was desperate for someone. He doesn't much like the animals either, which is why I think he hires someone to care for them."

"That's great," Harry said. "So I'm guessing that's where these are from?"

He touched a thin, long scratch along her right arm, though there were a couple others around it.

"There's an unruly cat," she explained. "I've asked if we can let her stay loose. She just doesn't like the cage, but Jimmy said absolutely not. Seems to think the cat hates him. But since we're talking wounds, I've been wondering about, that one."

Ginny's fingers fiddled with his fringe, grazing the lightning bolt scar. Harry hadn't even thought about the fact she didn't know the story. It had been so long since he'd had to explain his scar, and never had he needed to explain the true story. It was a question from his youth that he used to answer with the car crash lie of his aunt and uncle's. Since arriving at Hogwarts, his scar was one thing he didn't have to explain.

"It happened when I was one," he said.

"Did you fall?"

"No," Harry said. Was this first date material? No, he was sure it wasn't. "It was… a curse wound, actually."

"What?" Ginny looked shocked. "Who would do that to a child?"

"Voldemort," Harry answered.

Understanding seemed to come over Ginny. "Oh," she said. "Tom Riddle."

Harry remembered what Ron said about Ginny remembering her own experience with Riddle. He must have explained at least something about Voldemort, then. Harry nodded. "It's all fine now," Harry said, trying to bring the moment around.

"Right," Ginny said. "I'm sorry, I just… didn't mean to put a damper… let's try a more basic question, maybe? Where do your parents live? Are they around London as well?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh as Ginny tilted her head, brow knit as she waited for him to stop. "My parents died the same night I got the scar."

Ginny took a deep breath and bent forward, elbows on knees, burying her reddening face into her hands. "Oh, Harry, I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head.

"It's fine," Harry said, rubbing her back and chuckling still. "It's fine, really."

"Okay," Ginny said, coming back up. "Alright, I am going to try and keep my foot out of my mouth. Tell me… tell me what's your favorite food. Nothing tragic in that, right?"

"Right," Harry said.

They went back and forth with these sort of questions, finding their way back to the underground and off to the London Eye. Harry took Ginny's hand in his as they stepped onto the car, pressing up against the window. He watched her as Ginny looked mesmerized at the views of London, even more than the time they had come just after Ginny graduated from Hogwarts. "Look over there, Harry," she pointed out to where the lights tapered out. "Look how far the light spreads."

"I see," Harry said with a smile, placing an arm around Ginny's shoulders.

* * *

They walked around for hours chatting about nothing. Harry conjured a jacket and set it on Ginny's shoulders as an evening chill set in. Ginny told him what her and George had done to Ron's luggage.

"Wait, so every time he puts clothes in there—"

"They'll become a pile of condoms," Ginny laughed.

"I'm guessing this was George's idea," Harry said.

Ginny nodded. "Only he was sure Ron would make it impossible for him to get near the suitcase."

"He was right," Harry said. "Ron put a barrier on their room that wouldn't have let him in. He was expecting something like this. I guess I'll be hearing his side of it when they get back from their holiday."

"Probably," Ginny said, still smiling ear to ear. They were standing in front of the Leaky Cauldron. They walked quietly to the brick wall behind and Harry opened their way into Diagon Alley. They both walked slower as they made their way to George's flat above the now-closed shop.

"So what else have you been doing, now that you're here?" Harry asked. "Or are you going to work with animals now, like Charlie?"

"No, that's just a decent job for now," Ginny admitted. "A little extra money. I, er… well," she turned towards him as they stood on the landing in front of the flat's door. Ginny leaned back against the porch railing. "I'll tell you, but you can't laugh."

"On my honor, I won't," Harry said, though he was fighting a smirk.

Ginny hesitated. She hadn't told anyone about the Prophet. Not Ron or her mum or even Percy, when he asked what jobs she most wanted to go for. "I'm trying to become a Quidditch correspondent for the Prophet," she admitted quietly.

Harry's temptation to smirk stopped. "Why would I laugh at that? It's a brilliant idea," Harry said.

Ginny felt heat rise to her cheeks. "I've never done anything like it," she said. "And most of what I know about Quidditch is from those books… and a little I remember, but—"

"You'd be brilliant," Harry said, lifting a hand to her jaw, looking into her eyes. He looked so certain and her heart was bolstered by this.

They both stayed there for a couple minutes, neither moving. "Thank you for a lovely night," Ginny whispered.

Harry smiled. "Can we do it again sometime?" he asked.

Ginny nodded.

Harry leaned in, pressing his lips gently to hers in a sweet and slow kiss. Ginny closed her eyes and he pulled away as she took a deep breath. She opened her eyes, remembering the night of the World Cup, nearly throwing herself back into Harry when the door opened.

George stood in his pajamas and a bathrobe, holding a pipe in his mouth that was emitting various colors of bubbles. Harry moved his hand, lowering it so his fingers brushed her arm, before pushing it into his pockets and laughing. Ginny smiled, shaking her head at George. She had a feeling he'd been waiting up just to create this tableau.

"There's a couch that's more comfortable for snogging in there, if you'd like," George suggested, taking out the bubble pipe and holding it in his hand. "I think you remember my one rule, Harry. Never leave wanting more."

Ginny pressed her lips together. Harry seemed unsurprised by George. He would have received his fair share of heckling, she reminded herself. This was probably all a bonus in having Ginny live here, for George.

"I think we're good," Harry replied. "Thanks for the offer, though."

"Alright," George said. "Just know… I will not have my eye on you two. Don't need that messing up my dreams."

"Enough," Ginny said, standing. "Thanks again, Harry," she added.

Harry caught her hand before she'd gone inside all the way. "Sunday?" he asked.

"I'll be at the Burrow."

"I'll see you there," he said, lifting her hand, kissing the inside of her wrist before leaving.

Ginny closed the door behind her, leaning back against it with her smile widening.

"So it went well?" George asked.

"Yeah," Ginny said. "It went well."

* * *

"Get it out of here!" Jimmy roared.

Jimmy was mostly mild mannered, but he looked absolutely manic as the white cat leapt from shelf to shelf after scratching at him and getting loose yet again.

"Drown it, if you have to! I just… I can't…" he wandered off into the back.

When he was gone, the cat waltzed up gracefully to Ginny, rubbing up against her arms innocently. "You know, I'm starting to suspect you are doing this on purpose," Ginny said.

It was the end of her shift. She locked up the cages, with the other animals tucked away. She easily picked up the cat. "See you Monday, Jimmy!"

He muttered something from the backroom and Ginny left, carrying the purring cat in her arms. She sat in the living room, pulling out the draft of an article she was trying to write yet again as she watched, distracted, with the cat's attention fixed on a fly. She narrowed her eyes, looking at the white fur and thin body. "Hedwig," she said aloud, watching as the cat looked back at her. Another animal came to mind in one of those flashes of images that were appearing more frequently. "No… that seems like a name for an owl," Ginny muttered in response to herself. The cat blinked, then meowed, coming up, pressing her face into Ginny's leg. "How about Glykeria?"

The cat continued as Ginny picked her up. "Glykeria it is," she said, kissing her fur and petting her. "You're not so bad."

George and Harry both came in an hour later. Glykeria hissed at them. "Remind me," George said as he set down a box he was carrying. Harry walked over tentatively, Glykeria glaring at him, lowering herself into a pouncing position as Harry sat, keeping a decent distance from Ginny and her protector. "When exactly did we decide on getting a pet?"

"Jimmy was ready to curse Glykeria, so I figured she just needed to get her out of there," Ginny said, petting the cat until she relaxed, purring gently and shooting Harry the occasional glare.

"What are you up to," Harry asked.

"Nothing," Ginny sighed, collecting the paper to put away. Harry stopped her, grabbing the top paper.

She watched as he read. It was her tenth attempt in the last two weeks to write something worthy of showing Nye. She approached it with real hope every time, only to let herself down when reading it through again. Harry was still the only person she'd told what she really wanted to do, but this was the first time he was reading anything she wrote. Ginny worried her lip as he eyes moved back and forth across the page. He mindlessly reached out his hand. Glykeria looked alarmed at first, then closed her eyes and rubbed against Harry's hand as he pet her.

"This is good," Harry said.

"What's good?" George asked, looking over.

"Nothing," Ginny said, snatching it back.

Harry looked at her, exasperated.

"Is this some sort of love letter," George asked, reaching around.

Glykeria didn't like the sudden movement, turning quickly and swiping at George's hand. Ginny grabbed the folder, pulling it away.

"Okay, that thing can't live here," George said.

"You just scared her," Ginny said, picking Glykeria. "I'll keep her in my room."

"You can leave her at Mum and Dad's when you go back this weekend," George said. "Besides, Angelina is allergic."

"Angelina doesn't live here," Ginny pointed out in a sing song tone, turning on the couch as George walked back over to the kitchen, his neck blushing red. "Does she? Are you trying to tell me we're getting a new roommate?"

"No, I'm saying I don't want cat hair all over the place," George said. "But Angelina was going to come over after we go to dinner tonight, though. Just so you know."

"Alright," Ginny sighed. "And I'll take her home. Glykeria will like the yard there, anyway. Won't you Glykeria?"

George went to his room to change.

"Why don't you tell him?" Harry asked.

"Tell him?"

"About your writing," Harry said. "Why don't you want George to know?"

"Oh," Ginny said. She wasn't sure how to explain that. "I guess I just… don't want them to know if I fail."

"You're not going to fail. What I read was good. Why don't you show it to that editor?"

"Nye?" Ginny sighed, focusing down on Glykeria, scratching between her ears. "It's not there yet. I know it's better, but I need to go to more of those games at that London pitch."

"When's the next one?" Harry asked.

"Well, there's one tonight, but—"

"Let's go," Harry said.

"It's not like the World Cup," Ginny said. "It's not that caliber."

"So?" Harry asked, standing. "Come on, we'll go together."

Ginny smiled, picking up Glykeria and taking her to her room first. When she came back to the living room, Harry pulled her in for a kiss. Ginny kept her hands on his chest as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

They had been out twice more and spent another couple evenings with her family together as well. Ginny was genuinely surprised at how much more relaxed Harry was around her since his resolve to start over. She knew she still asked questions that she probably once knew, but he never acted strangely about answering them and she found herself looking forward to any time they could spend together.

Harry took her by the arm and called for the Knight Bus just outside the Leaky Cauldron. Ginny had a pad and pen with her.

Two teams, ages 18-30, were playing at the pitch that night. Ginny had found out this community pitch played host to all sorts of leagues, the youngest was made up of 5-10 year olds, there were a couple teams for 11-17, though many witches and wizards that age played at Hogwarts. Then there were the 30-40 year olds and the last was anyone older.

Some teams were actually quite good. The two today made a fairly interesting show of it, though their beaters could have been more aggressive. She supposed they didn't have teams of mediwizards on hand, though there were a couple should they be needed. Perhaps there was more apprehension to cause actual injury as a result.

Ginny made little notes to herself as she watched, Harry sitting beside her, leaning with his elbows on his knees, watching the game.

"They have a couple good forms," Harry said.

"Yes, but it doesn't give me much to write about," Ginny said with a sigh.

"Well, what's unique about this?" Harry asked, sitting back, his arm lining the top of the bench. There wasn't anyone around them. Family and friends that came to watch were smattered in the middle of the modest stadium.

"I don't know," Ginny admitted. "These leagues aren't really talked about. London has one… there's one in Scotland too, but only a few others in the world. It doesn't really go anywhere. It's not like the professional leagues are scouting them."

"But they still play," Harry said.

"Well, yes," Ginny said, turning to him. "They love it."

"Like you," Harry said with a smile.

"The only thing Nye wants about me and Quidditch is an exclusive about how it made me demented."

"So give it to her," Harry suggested. "She wasn't wrong that people are talking. It's mostly in the trashy Quidditch periodicals, but why not speak up for yourself?"

Ginny let out a breath, looking out as the two seekers started racing down and around the pitch. Some of the spectators stood, cheering on their own players. She thought of the Burrow, which lacked cheerleaders entirely. She always felt free playing there. She wondered if she ever preferred the din of the crowds over a game with her brothers.

"You'll figure it out," Harry said, leaning in and kissing her cheek. Ginny looked over and smiled at him, the base of her neck buzzing again.


	9. One Step Back, Two Steps Forward

**_One Step Back, Two Steps Forward_**

Ginny watched another body being carried off into the Great Hall. The mangled form of Lavender Brown passed and Ginny covered her mouth, turning away. She walked towards the entrance, where her family had moved. The hour was nearly up.

Ron held Hermione, swaying where they stood. Ginny looked around, realizing Harry wasn't there. She walked up to the two of them. "Where did Harry go?" she asked.

Ron stopped, loosening Hermione as they both looked around. It was as though they just realized he wasn't with them.

"Where did he go?" Ginny asked again, panic rising in her, grasping onto Ron's arm.

"NO!" McGonagall's scream rang through the entrance. They all ran after her, spilling onto the lawn.

"Harry!" Ginny cried out, tears filling her eyes as she saw him, limp and lifeless in Hagrid's arms. "Harry, no Harry!"

She moved to run towards him and her dad caught her around the waist holding her back. "Don't," he begged.

"No, Harry!" she fought against his arms, her heart in pieces, wishing he would stir. Wishing he would respond to all those calling his name.

"SILENCE!" Voldemort's voice echoed across them, then a flash of light and they were all forced to comply. Ginny stopped fighting and her father's arms pulled her in, holding her tightly to him. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs."

Ginny turned, sobbing into Arthur's chest. Percy stepped up onto her other side placing a hand on her shoulder. "You see?" Voldemort's voice carried again. "Harry Potter is dead!..."

He continued to talk, but the voice faded into another.

"Wake up," George whispered frantically. "Ginny, wake up! Wake up!"

Ginny thrashed beneath her covers as the scene from Hogwarts faded fast. Her face was wet with tears and sweat, and she was shaking. She sat up, confused as George held onto her. Her head buzzed, in the same spot that she now associated with remembrance. It was early October and the last few weeks were filled with glimpses, like pictures, that came in flashes and then disappeared again. She couldn't make sense of most of these images, usually describing them to Harry or Ron to get an idea of what they were connected to. None of them had been this clear.

Harry, dead. _No_ , Ginny thought. _That couldn't possibly be right_. It was unthinkable. Still, the image pulled her into another fit of sobbing as George enveloped her.

"What is it? Tell me, Ginny."

She shook her head, unable to speak.

"George, is everything okay?" Angelina asked from the bright hallway.

Ginny wondered what time it was. George was in regular clothing. She'd gone to bed early, the buzzing giving her a mild headache. Harry went home and she left George and Angelina to their evening around half nine.

"She was just having a nightmare, I think," he said quietly, holding her tight to him. "Ginny, can you tell me what your dream was? What happened?"

"H-harry," as all she managed.

"You want me to get Harry?" George asked.

It wasn't what she meant, but now that he said it, it was easier to agree than to explain. Ginny nodded.

"I'll get him through floo," Angelina said, leaving the door frame.

Ginny gripped tighter to George, catching her breath as he rubbed her back.

Harry appeared in the doorway a few moments later. "What is it?" he asked, his brows knit in worry.

Seeing his face, the same face that in her dream had been vacant, almost made Ginny fall into the same panic she had in the midst of the dream. "Just… a n-nightmare," she said. "It was so real."

"You're safe here," George assured her.

The tension in Harry's body melted away as he stepped into the room. George let go of Ginny, moving over as Harry sat beside her. Ginny wrapped herself around Harry's middle, breathing him in, confirming that he was alive and with her.

"I've got it," Harry said to George.

George nodded, obviously shaken. "Thank you, George," Ginny managed to choke out as he forced a smile, leaning over to kiss her cheek before going back to Angelina. They shut the door on their way out.

Harry didn't say anything, but kept Ginny close to him as they sat silently in the dark.

"I'm sorry," Ginny finally said. "It was so stupid. I hope you weren't asleep."

"No, not yet," Harry said. "I was looking over some work files."

"What time is it?"

"Quarter past one," Harry answered.

Ginny let out a groan of frustration. The more separation between herself and the dream and the more ridiculous she felt over the fuss she'd caused.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry asked.

They sat in silence for several minutes more while Ginny considered this. Ginny felt she owed him an explanation. Moreover, she needed to know. Was that real? Or was it a figment of her imagination?

"I thought you were dead," Ginny said softly.

Harry's hand, which had been moving up and down her arm, stopped. "In the dream?"

"Yeah," Ginny said. "Hagrid… Hagrid had you in his arms…"

"You remember Hagrid?" Harry asked.

Ginny nodded into his chest. "And… Voldemort… and … and…" she melted into tears again.

"Shhh," Harry said, pulling her closer. "That was so long ago."

That answered whether or not it was real. "Why?" she asked.

"That's a really long, depressing story, Ginny," Harry said.

"You were faking, though," Ginny said. "I mean, obviously…"

"What did you see exactly?"

Ginny didn't like that response. She told him. She explained the realization that he was missing, the cry from McGonagall that brought them to the lawn, and what she saw and heard. Harry stayed very still, kissing the top of her head every so often. "But you didn't die," Ginny said, her voice getting choked with tears again. "Right? You didn't?"

"Not… ultimately," Harry said. "And I wasn't dead when you saw me."

She pulled away looking at him, waiting for an explanation.

"It's difficult to say. But I ended up with a choice to… to remain dead or come back," Harry said. "And I came back. What you saw was me pretending so I could get back to you—to everyone."

Ginny pulled back a little, lifting herself and taking Harry's lips into her own, kissing him desperately. She wrapped her hands around his neck, tears still trailing down her face. She knew she was letting the memory get to her, but reliving it like that made it feel so real, so recent. Harry returned the kiss, though tentatively. He was holding back. Ginny stopped, looking at him. "What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing," Harry replied, though everything but his words spoke to the contrary. Ginny tilted her head and raised her eyebrows, waiting him out. "It's just… the first thing you actually remember about _me_. And it's… it's terrible."

Two weeks before, she had one of those flashes of images. Going into a room with an eagle… sitting there with some boy… flipping through a book with her legs draped over his. She'd shared this with Harry, trying to make sense of it. "That's probably Michael Corner you're remembering," he said, dejected. "You dated him for a while."

After that, any moments including some guy she couldn't remember she'd consult Ron instead of Harry, just in case. Even tonight, what made him upset made Ginny feel guilty, like she was failing by remembering the wrong things. She loosened her grip, but as she nearly pulled away, Harry held her more tightly. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's not… important."

But Ginny knew that to Harry, it was. It had been a little more than a month since they'd been going out and this didn't come up as much, but once in awhile it lingered over them.

"How's your headache," Harry asked, breaking the silence.

"Worse," Ginny admitted. She wasn't sure if it was the crying or the memory, or all of it together, but her head had moved onto a dull throb.

"You need sleep," Harry said. He moved to stand, but Ginny held him there.

"Can you stay?" she asked. "I… I would feel better if you stayed."

Harry nodded. He kicked off his shoes and adjusted himself so he was under the covers. Ginny moved to give him more room. They laid together, Harry's arm around Ginny as she rested her head on his chest.

"I was dreaming about something else before that," Ginny told him.

Harry pulled off his glasses, setting them on her side table and hummed in response.

"Ron was snogging Lavender Brown in front of everyone."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, that happened."

"Really?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah, really," Harry said. "A good chunk of our sixth year they wouldn't lay off each other. Did you remember the necklace?"

"What necklace?"

Harry explained about a necklace Lavender gave Ron for Christmas. And how Ron wanted to break things off, but was too chicken. This bled into other stories, but Ginny wasn't really listening well. She kept going back to the memory. It was the most vivid one she'd had yet. It was the first one with Harry in it as well. She only met with Janae once every two to three weeks now, and she wondered if she should set up an appointment to share this with her. To get her input.

No, Ginny thought. She wanted to move on from it. She wanted to focus on other memories, better memories. If only they would come so fully. Most of her family seemed to take it as a good sign that any memories were coming back, but Ginny wasn't so sure. She drifted into an otherwise dreamless sleep, the lullaby of Harry's stories calming her.

In the morning, she woke to Harry's hand on her cheek. "Gin," he whispered, his lips tickling the skin by her ear. "Ginny, I think we both have to get ready for work."

She opened and rubbed at her eyes, turning onto her stomach. "Can't we skive off today?" she sighed, planting her chin on her crossed hands over Harry's chest. He looked down at her with a lopsided grin, his glasses back on.

"I have a meeting at nine I can't miss," Harry said. "But I can come back after that."

Ginny moved up, kissing Harry, digging her fingers into his hair, his arms still wrapped around her and tightening. He hummed under her, more responsive than he had been the night before. "You're making being responsible very difficult," he said when he pulled away.

"Good," Ginny replied with a smirk. "Now get going so you can come back."

It was another ten minutes before Harry finally resolved to go, heading back to his flat to get ready before work. Ginny's small barn owl, Dionysus, hooted from his perch across the room. She walked over with a note telling Jimmy she wouldn't be in and gave Dionysus a treat and he was off.

After taking Glykeria to her parents', Ginny found other reasons to take animals off Jimmy's hands. She took the ones not pretty enough, or not charming enough, or (like Dionysus) were picked on by the other animals and needed special care. George complained a bit, but humored her when she brought the second, then third back to his flat. Then she used some spare time to build elaborate and clever cages; spaces that the rat could perform tricks and ways for the animals to not even know they were going into a cage, since the exit was blocked by charms. George was talking about manufacturing these for his shop, which increased his patience for Ginny's little collection of pets.

"How are you this morning, Aions?" she said to the blind white rat, putting her hand into a little space between the bars. Aions sniffed at her fingers, used to her having some kind of treat for him. "And Ramesus," she added to Aions companion—a grey rat that changed colors when she wasn't scared. Being a rather nervous animal, whenever someone at the shop saw her and went to get a closer look, she'd freeze up and go back to her plain grey. Jimmy had Ramesus for over two years and said she'd never sell, so Ginny took her home.

There was a tank with a toad she named Quintus, for no other reason than he was the fifth orphan she took in. Quintus had been bought and brought back various times to the shop because he always managed to escape. Annoyed parents opted for a more well behaved animal instead. His tank was the most complicated to date. Ginny worked on it consistently, every time she noticed him spending too long in a certain area. He was a smart little animal and she often predicted (correctly) that Quintus was finding weak points he could exploit. The best part about his tank, or at least the part Ginny felt most proud, was that the charm allowed little flies and insects to make their way in without letting them back out again. Most of Quintus's food came from this so that caring for him was even easier.

After greeting all of her animals, Ginny sat at the desk looking over notes from the Quidditch match two nights before. She started following one local team in particular—one that had to travel from the north weekly for their matches. The Nuneaton Nifflers. They were in the 20-30 age range league and practiced at a makeshift pitch, not unlike the one they had at The Burrow. Just last week Ginny sent another sample to Nye, receiving a response back.

 _Ginny,_

 _Better, but not there yet. Give me something solid and I'll put you on some of the profiles we need for preseason._

 _Rowanda Nye_

 _P.S. We're still open for that interview._

She didn't know what was missing still. Her writing sounded as much like the articles as she could muster. She had nitpicked and gone over the samples a dozen times before she sent them in. Harry just shrugged and said she'd get there, which was the first time Ginny felt truly irritated with Harry. Maybe even irrationally, since she wasn't sure what she expected or wanted from him in response. Perhaps answers. Just someone that could look at what she wrote and tell her exactly what was wrong.

Regardless, she redoubled her efforts. On nights he wasn't pulling long shifts, Harry came with Ginny to the London Pitch and they discussed the games afterward. Since Nye mentioned profile pieces, she started focusing on this, interviewing the members of the Nifflers and writing up mini articles on the players, waiting for Harry to come back home.

* * *

Harry and Ginny stood at the door to Ron and Hermione's little cottage in the suburbs of London. Ron had caught Harry before he left, inviting them both to dinner. Harry knocked on the door and leaned over, giving Ginny a kiss on the cheek before Hermione opened the door.

"Hello!" Hermione exclaimed. "It's so good to see you both!"

Hermione leaned in to hug Ginny first, then Harry. They had seen a lot less of the newly weds since the wedding, though no one was surprised. Least of all George, who made as many suggestive comments as possible, making Ron go red any time he was around.

Harry didn't know why it bothered him. Afterall, Hermione and Ron had more or less lived together the past two years. He didn't know how George calling out what everyone knew was happening made it worse for Ron, except that perhaps the practical joke still stung. Ron hadn't told the family about it, though George had been on the edge of his seat as they shared their vacation stories at the last family dinner. He hadn't even told Harry about it at work, though Harry had been waiting for it.

"How's everything here?" Ginny asked as Hermione lead them into the sitting room.

"Good," Hermione said. "We're all settled into normal life now. Ron is talking about a holiday to Scotland for the New Year. I think he just needs something new to look forward to."

Ron came in, wearing an apron and a smile.

"You did the cooking?" Harry asked incredulously. Ron scowled at him.

"Ron and I took a cooking class together last spring," Hermione said. "He's quite good, actually."

"How come I never heard about this," Harry asked, sitting and putting an arm behind Ginny.

"Because of that disbelieving tone you just used," Ron replied, taking the apron off. "Not all of us have inherited a house-elf who gets their kicks and giggles cooking for us."

"He was just wondering, Ron," Ginny said, settling into Harry.

Their discussion turned to other things, Hermione sharing the pictures she finally developed from their vacation.

"Those look like new clothes, Ron," Harry pointed out, unable to fully suppress a grin.

Ginny's hand on his knee squeezed harder in warning.

"Yeah, well, I didn't want to say anything in front of George. Didn't want him to get the satisfaction, but he did something to my luggage."

"Really," Harry said. "I thought you said you had that… well covered. Thought it was… protected."

Ginny elbowed him this time as Ron looked between the two of them.

"What do you know about it," Ron said. "Did you help him, Harry?"

"Of course not," Harry said incredulously, despite his growing, knowing smile.

"Ginny?" Hermione asked while Ron was still looking to Harry for an explanation.

"Alright, yes," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "George needed an assistant and I obliged."

Hermione laughed heartily as Ron scowled at Ginny. Harry leaned over, kissing her temple. "You're a rat, by the way," Ginny added to Harry.

"And you and George owe me ninety galleons for the new suitcase and clothes I had to get."

"You needed those anyway," Hermione said. "Besides, they did save us having to buy any condoms for a while."

Ron turned red and tried to change the subject as everyone else laughed. They moved into the dining area where Ron had made a rather nice roast. He seemed pleased by the praise, as well as the moving away from the topic of the honeymoon prank.

Ginny told them about her work, with Harry filling in about how she was single handedly providing homes for all the misfit animals at the Menagerie. She rolled her eyes at this, then went on to tell them about the various animals that she now had in her room at George's.

"Victoire really likes Glykeria, at least," Ginny shrugged.

Hermione stood to grab dishes, Ron trying to stand and help. "No, you cooked, I'll take care of the dishes," she said, kissing him as she grabbed the plates from his hands.

"Let me help," Ginny insisted as she joined Hermione.

Ron took Harry to see some of the dark magic detectors he found in a small shop in Greece. They sat on a bookshelf in the guest room, along with little pieces of stone art that Ron said Hermione bought.

"Looks like things are going well for you and Ginny," Ron finally said, placing a truth rod back onto the shelf carefully.

Harry let out a breath, scratching the back of his head, peeking out the door. Ginny and Hermione were finished with dishes, but stood by the sink, glasses in their hands chatting. "Yeah, it's working," he said.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked.

"Last night she remembered the Hogwarts Battle," Harry said. "In some detail, apparently."

Ron's face flushed as he nodded. "Well, it's like everything else, right? It's good she's remembering. Other memories will likely come."

Harry hadn't talked to Ron about these things at work. He tried not talking about them at all, but the thoughts he couldn't fully suppress were eating at him. While they had a nice day together, wandering the streets of Diagon Alley, Harry's full attention wasn't with Ginny and he knew it. "That's all well and good, but why that?" Harry said quietly. "Why _that_ memory? All she's ever going to associate with us and our past is absolutely horrific!"

"It's not like she has control—"

"I know that!" Harry nearly shouted. He cleared his throat, taking a calming breath. "Look, I understand that, but it's not any less frustrating for me. And I'm trying not to let it show, but can I just tell you? Can't I just have one person I can say this to?"

"Yeah," Ron said, folding his arms and concentrating on Harry. "Yeah, mate, go ahead."

It was like Ron gave him permission to cough up tar he held in his lungs. "She remembers you snogging Lavender Brown," Harry started, though that wasn't what bothered him the most. It was simply a warm-up. "She remembers Dean and Michael. She remembers pleasant afternoons with _them_ , going to Hogsmeade… I know they aren't full memories, but why don't any of those types of moments come up with me? Why not? How come her memories with me are when I appear dead? How can years of wonderful just disappear so thoroughly, Ron?"

"I know what you mean," Ron said, nodding.

"I just want her to remember one _good_ thing about us. Just one! Is that so much—"

Harry looked back over towards the hall and froze. Ginny was standing there in the doorway, Hermione not far behind. Ginny's face was blank as Harry caught her eye.

"Sorry," she finally said, then looked over to Ron. "I was just telling Hermione that I've had this headache… it's coming back, so I thought I should go home and take something for it." Her eyes flickered back to Harry as she tried to smile.

"Are you sure?" Ron said. "I think we have something here for that."

"Oh no, I should definitely get some sleep as well."

Harry cleared his throat. "Thanks for dinner," he said, moving towards Ginny.

"No," Ginny said. "Harry, you go ahead and stay. I can take the floo, if that's alright?" She looked towards Hermione.

"Of course," Hermione said, looking between Ginny and Harry nervously.

Ginny gave Ron a kiss on the cheek, then turned to Harry, reaching up and giving him a quick, almost friendly, kiss on the lips, then walked from the room, Hermione leading her towards the fireplace with a nervous glance back.

Harry moved towards the bookcase leaning on the shelves and clenching his jaw. He waited, Ron sinking into an arm chair in the corner. There was a crackling of fire, then a noise like the rush of wind. Ginny had gone.

"Shit," Harry growled.

* * *

Harry felt sick as Ginny avoided him for an entire weekend. He sent an owl, suggesting he could come up to the Burrow with her. She didn't reply right away, but eventually sent Dionysus with a message that she was watching Victoire on Saturday and had a whole mother-daughter day planned with Molly Sunday.

When she hadn't replied to his invitation to dinner Monday, Harry went to George's flat first.

"I haven't seen her today," George said. "I think she was doing something at the pitch. Interviews, maybe."

Harry went down there, finding her on one of the highest benches of the stadium seating. He walked up, sinking into the space beside her. Ginny was biting her bottom lip, concentrating on the game below. It was a group of children practicing, making this a game she could watch from the corner of her eye and still catch everything.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered.

Ginny's eyes were focused on the field, though he noticed they were filling with moisture as she cleared her throat. "This was what I meant," Ginny said.

"What is?"

Ginny turned to look at him. "It's not fair to you. You have been wonderful, Harry. You have been so patient and I thought it was working, but—"

"It _is_ working," Harry said. He reached out his hand, placing it on Ginny's knee. "Please, I know… I know it's not your fault with everything else. And I'm trying to not let it get to me."

"But it is getting to you," Ginny argued.

"It is," Harry admitted. There was no point denying it. Hermione said they'd only caught the tail end of his explosion, but it was certainly enough that he couldn't just pretend it was something else. "Ginny, I'd rather have all of this with you, than none of it without you."

Ginny took in a deep breath, and leaned against him. Harry moved, folding Ginny up in his arms. "I'm so sorry I said any of that," Harry said. "I'm so sorry."

"I love you," she whispered.

Harry's heart seized up and he held tighter to her. "I love you, too," Harry said. "More than ever."

* * *

Janae gave Ginny a potion to deal with her headaches. After taking it for a few days the buzzing was gone, the headache was gone, and the flitting of memories were gone. She started looking up other things and found that muggles had these pills they took for headaches. She stopped with the potion and bought herself a bottle of aspirin from an apothecary type shop outside of Diagon Alley. Of course when her mother asked, she said she was taking the potion.

Mostly the memories came at the same dreadfully slow and unpredictable pace. Ginny and Harry had a long discussion about how he was feeling concerning the memories. They agreed that he needed his own outlet. That he shouldn't feel guilty talking about the injustice of the situation, but they both knew that if Ginny were the one he talked about these things with it could result in more problems than solutions. Harry had full permission to talk with Ron about anything he needed to vent over.

By the middle of October Ginny had sent a third sample to Nye. In return, she sent Ginny back two players contact information—one for the Wasps, another for the Tornados—for Ginny to cover. She would head out in the next week to watch them in practice and interview them. She pushed a treat into the rat cage, which she'd had to enlarge when she brought a third one home. She was still trying to find a name for him. "You two be nice to him," she instructed, searching through the notes Nye sent, trying to prepare herself. Jimmy was already disappointed she would be gone, so Ginny agreed to come in for a couple hours Saturday morning just to clean the cages so he wouldn't have to worry about that.

Late Friday night as Ginny laid in her bed, the buzzing became prevalent. Unable to concentrate, she threw the stack of papers onto her side table, closing her eyes. Images almost immediately took over. Names came to mind and places as she thought. Ginny concentrated, sitting up and putting her face into her hands, trying desperately to hold onto them.

Once or twice, she thought they would leave, but then another would begin.

Christmas, stealing a broom as the others went inside, bangs and crashes… two identical faces sitting on her bed, doing muggle magic tricks to cheer her up… summer games… tricks and jokes and laughter…

Ginny held onto it all, gritting her teeth. By the time it tapered off, it was the early hours of the morning. Ginny dashed over to her desk, grabbing the half-full journal and put pen to paper, hoping to capture as much of it before it was forgotten again. Astoundingly, instead of leaving, Ginny found as she wrote that details seemed to fall perfectly into place. She remembered… she _remembered_. It was a portion, she knew that, but it was exciting, making her heart leap.

Her alarm went off at seven, though she hadn't slept at all. She closed her journal, setting it aside and moving to find fresh clothes to wear.

Walking out into the kitchen, she saw George sitting there, pouring a bowl of cereal. "Morning," he said, then looked up, stopping. "Are you alright? Did you have another nightmare?"

Ginny shook her head no. "I… I just need to know," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Did you and Fred used to take me swimming at the lake in the summers?"


	10. RememberForget

_**Remember/Forget**_

George gapped at Ginny, nodding. She licked her lips and plunged ahead.

"The two of you always went in on my Christmas gift together, right?" She waited, George nodded again. "And when I was eight and wanted that porcelain doll Mum and Dad couldn't afford, you and Fred did magic over the Christmas break to make one of my old dolls look like it."

George's shock was slowly becoming a large smile. "Mum tried telling us off for using magic outside school—"

"But then she saw me playing with the doll and laid off." Ginny laughed giddily, dropping into the seat beside George. "I remember," she said.

"Just that Christmas? And the lake?" George asked, obviously trying to keep his excitement in check.

Ginny shook her head. "Lots more! I just… you and Fred came to mind and it was one right after another… all night... "

"Didn't you sleep at all?"

"Not a bit!" Ginny laughed happily some more. "I have to get to work." She jumped back up.

"No way! Call in, we have to go let Mum know!" George said.

"I already told Jimmy I'd be in until noon," Ginny argued. "Besides, I sent Mum an owl I wasn't coming home this weekend."

"Consider it a change of plans," George said. He followed Ginny into the kitchen, pouring her a glass of juice. "This is huge! We'll go home right when you get back. Pack a bag, because I doubt Mum will take no for an answer when it comes to staying the night. I'll go, too."

"Alright," Ginny said, rushing around the flat, getting ready to go, still as happy as when the memories began rolling in. "Alright, but I have to get going."

"Don't bring back anymore animals," George said, as he did every time he caught her on her way to work these days.

Ginny could barely concentrate, ending in her changing the bedding of the smaller rat cage twice and almost over feeding some of the owls. Jimmy kept giving her looks, but he seemed happy with not having to worry about handling the animals, so he didn't comment. She hurried through the tasks, then checked everything off with Jimmy before rushing back to George's. Harry and George were both sitting, waiting for her.

Ginny stopped. She wondered for a moment if it would upset Harry that these memories—so many, and most of them pleasant—had nothing to do with him. The concern for his feelings on the matter were put to rest as he stood, stepped over to her, and picked her up, swinging her around in the entryway. Ginny squealed and laughed, her arms around his neck.

"It's coming back," he said happily as he placed her down. He tucked Ginny's hair behind her ears, looking into her eyes. She'd never seen him smile so widely. Ginny supposed she should have apprehension at his hope of what some memories might mean, but even Ginny couldn't help but take the night before as a good omen.

"It's coming back," she agreed, going up on her toes to kiss him.

"Come on, you two," George said. "I told Mum noon and she's going to lecture me if we keep her waiting. It's already… seventeen past."

Ginny pulled away from Harry, running to her room to hastily throw together an overnight bag. The three of them took the floo into the Burrow where Molly was already in a state. "Where have you been! I have been waiting!" She threw herself around Ginny in a bone crushing hug. Molly pulled back to pat Ginny's cheeks as Ginny explained the night before and how all the memories of the twins came back so suddenly.

"Molly, dear, let Ginny breathe a little," Arthur said, pulling her back, though his smile was just as broad.

"Everyone is coming!" Molly exclaimed. "They'll all be here for dinner! We are celebrating!"

Sure enough, throughout the afternoon the rest of the Weasleys trickled in. Ron and Hermione were there by two, then Bill and Victoire came (Fleur was fighting pregnancy sickness and fatigue, so Bill made apologies for her absence), followed by Percy, then Angelina, and even Charlie arrived by portkey as Molly finished cooking, leaving it to heat on the stove. All the while Ginny threw out one story after another, everyone else including their own recollections, parts in the story, or memories that were similar.

"These all have to do with the twins, though," Ron complained at one point. Hermione elbowed him for his tone.

"Sorry," Ginny apologized with a shrug. "It's just… what I remember."

"What can I say," George interjected proudly. "I always did tell you I was her favorite."

There was a mixture of laughter and booing. Victoire giggled into her hands like whatever came out of George's mouth was the funniest joke she'd ever heard.

"Do you remember getting free ice cream in the muggle village?" Ginny asked.

"Oh Merlin! I forgot about when we used to do that!" George said.

"There was this really sweet lady at the candy shop," Ginny explained to the rest of the room.

"I remember her," Bill said. "Catherine, or … something like that right?"

"Right," Ginny confirmed. "Well, when I was about five, Fred and George realized she had this soft spot for girls. So they'd offer to watch me, then make me rub dirt on my face and teach me things to say to her."

"What kind of things?" Angelina asked, raising an eyebrow to George.

"I think the first one was something like… _I've always wondered what ice cream tasted like_ ," Ginny said, mimicking her younger self in a dramatic tone.

"Oh Merlin," Charlie groaned. "That worked?"

"Sure did," George said.

"We'd _always_ get free ice cream going in there," Ginny added.

" _George Weasley_ ," Molly huffed incredulously, looking at him, though everyone else was laughing.

"I don't remember getting free ice cream," Ron said.

"You probably weren't invited," Charlie countered.

George was red in the face from laughing. "Ginny! You weren't… supposed… to tell… Mum," George said between laughs.

Molly was torn between a large smile and an indignant motherly scowl, which caused George to laugh even harder.

"Wait, wait," Ginny said, looking around as the room quieted slowly. "Where's Fred anyway? Isn't he going to come too?"

The lingering laughter around the room ended abruptly as eyes turned towards her.

"I mean… Charlie came," Ginny said, feeling uncomfortable with the looks. "Fred doesn't live that far away does he? Or… or is he just busy?"

The whole mood turned cold and still. Ginny looked around, noticing that they were all exchanging glances with one another, but no one met her gaze now.

"Where's Fred?" Ginny asked again, confused, her heart picking up speed, her breath shortening.

Molly was the first to look at Ginny, though her eyes were filled with tears and she didn't say anything.

"Fred died, Ginny," Bill finally said gently. "Back in the war. Years ago."

Ginny turned toward him, slowly shaking her head. "No," she said. "No, I… I would… I would have remembered… wouldn't I?"

Ginny looked to Harry, but his whole face was strained and worried.

Her head pounded, but not the same way as when memories came. Ginny pushed herself up from the couch and walked briskly toward the door. She needed air. She needed space.

"Ginny, please, don't!" Molly shouted.

Ginny left out the front door, letting it slam behind her as she ran across the yard, pushing herself faster as her chest constricted. She saw Fred in her mind, joking… sneaking her an extra cookie… kneeling in front of her, assuring her everyone would be fine at the World Cup when she was thirteen. She could almost feel his arms around her when they came to see her in the hospital wing at the end of her first year, and a hundred other times with his impossibly lively face smiling at her.

Fred couldn't be dead.

Ginny tried to outrun the thought.

* * *

Harry buried his face in his hands. How hadn't they thought of that? How could they miss something so fundamental? Molly was crying now, Arthur trying to calm her. George, too, had cracked and Angelina put her arms around him as he leaned forward his eyes pressed into the heels of his hands trying to stop. Everyone else seemed dumbstruck.

"There's nothing to get this worked up over now," Arthur said to Molly quietly. "We need to let Ginny be the one to grieve." He looked over to George, but didn't encourage him to stop. No one would have dared expected that of the remaining twin.

"Someone needs to go find her," Molly said.

No one moved. Harry had a feeling none of them wanted to be the one to convince her of the truth. Or tell her how it happened. How did you even being to explain something like that?

"I'll go," Ron said reluctantly.

"No, let me," Harry interrupted. "I'll bring her back."

Ron didn't argue as Harry stood and walked through the front door. The sun was setting, but there was still enough light to see Ginny's footprints in the damp ground at the edge of the field. He knelt down, pulling out his wand. There was a basic charm that usually did no good, because it was easy for dark wizards to counter its effects. But as Ginny's intent wasn't to hide Harry figured it would actually be useful. Harry pointed his wand at one of the footprints and said quietly, " _sequitur._ " Little gold sparks bounced from one footprint to another, following the trail Ginny left into the trees.

Harry followed them, the evening glow pushing itself through the leaves as he walked carefully, as not to disturb the chain from where he started. Ginny had weaved in and out of the trees, turning erratically. Harry watched until the he saw her ahead, standing on the edge of the small lake outside the village, right next to a large tree trunk.

Harry and Ginny had stolen away here some afternoons before she left her seventh year, and other times on her breaks and during holidays when they came to visit. Harry walked quietly. She didn't turn as he stepped up beside her.

Ginny looked out over the water, her face stern and determined. She wasn't crying like Harry expected. Instead, fire burned right behind her eyes, unblinking with her arms folded across her body. Harry looked out in the distance.

"It happened so fast," Harry said. "All of us were fighting… there was a blast and then he was just gone."

"George and Fred's room was closest to mine," Ginny replied. "So when I had nightmares when I was young, they were the ones who'd come. Not my parents. They'd calm me down by doing shadow puppet stories on the wall in my room."

They were both quiet for a moment. "Maybe George waking you from that nightmare was what brought on the memories," Harry suggested. "Maybe that's why you remembered them."

Ginny turned towards Harry, throwing herself around his neck as she kissed him fiercely. Harry wrapped his arms around her as Ginny turned him, pushing him back against the trunk, moving into him. He lost all reason of why they were out here, what his mission was supposed to be as she moved her lips, guiding his hands with her own over her curves and beneath the fabric of her shirt. Harry's fingers curled into her bare skin as he found more of it along her jaw and neck with his lips, suckling her pale, freckled skin as he did so.

"I'm all yours," she whispered into Harry's ear, her breath hot on his skin. She moved her own hands to find the bottom edge of his shirt, her fingers grazing his torso.

"Stop," Harry said with some effort. His own hands stopped moving, but Ginny only touched him with more urgency. He removed his hands from her waist, grabbing her wrists. "Stop, Ginny."

She looked up, reality was washing over her. "Why?" she asked.

"Not here," he said. "Not like this."

"Come on, Harry," she whispered, leaning in again, her lips against his neck. "I know you want to."

He let go of one hand, to hold onto her chin, moving her back so she was looking at him. "If you want this, then we will. We'll go away next weekend. A nice inn in the country or whatever you want, but not now."

"Why not?" Ginny demanded, tears and anger rising to the surface.

"Because," Harry swallowed. "Because I don't ever want to be something you regret, and if I don't make you see sense that's exactly what I'll be."

"Then what use are you?" she cried. "You come out here to what? Make me go back and hear how it happened?" Tears finally came, streaming down her face. Harry held her arms as she pushed against his chest in frustration. "I finally remember them… I finally get something back and it is _taken away!"_ Ginny shouted the last part before her body melted into Harry, her energy gone.

Harry wrapped her up in his arms and she collapsed into shaking sobs. "Make me forget," Ginny begged. "If not with distraction, then find another bludger, please. _Please_ , just make me forget."

Harry held tight, rocking Ginny in his arms. He had no words left, nothing to make this better. It seemed that these memories came with a price and he didn't blame Ginny for not wanting to pay it. The sky darkened, but they didn't move. As Ginny's cries subsided, Harry whispered promises and reassurances into her ear.

It would be alright.

She was loved.

They would get through this.

They would get through everything.

Night took over by the time they headed back to The Burrow, Harry's arm around Ginny's shoulder, hers around his waist. When they got into the living room, it seemed that no one had moved, except perhaps Victoire, who was sitting on Arthur's lap, using his fingers to show off her counting skills.

"No one's eaten yet?" Ginny asked. Everyone looked nervous, but she stood there, looking at them, trying to smile. "Come on, let's eat."

This broke whatever tension held everyone still and they all stood, heading into the kitchen where Molly happily hustled around, doling out assignments. George sat on Ginny's other side, his eyes still red. "It's been fun today," he said to her. "I'm glad you remembered about us."

Ginny leaned over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Me too," she said.

As dinner continued, the sharing of stories started up again, though there wasn't the unadulterated excitement from before.

Early the next morning, Harry woke in the room he was sharing with Charlie and Percy. He got dressed, then went into Ginny's room. He sat on the edge of her bed and leaned over, kissing her cheek and pushing back her vivid red hair. "Ginny," he whispered.

She took in a deep breath and turned onto her back, her eyes opening slowly, squinting at the sun spilling in through the window by her bed. "Hmmm?"

Harry placed a hand along her jaw, his thumb tracing her cheek. "I wanted to take you somewhere," he said. "Come on."

Ginny pushed herself up in her bed, turning her face to kiss the inside of Harry's wrist. He smiled and stood, leaving the room. He waited on the landing for Ginny to get dressed. She was pulling on her shoes as she stepped out the door. "Where are we going?"

"To see Fred," Harry said, taking her hand and leading the way.

They walked in the opposite direction Ginny ran the night before. Neither talked as they made their way into the small, mostly unkempt cemetery. Many of the stones were tilted and worn, the names nearly impossible to read anymore. They made it into a newer section until they stood in front of the headstone that read _Fred Weasley_. His plot was neater than most, though a bed of little blue flowers grew in a mess around the base of the stone.

Harry moved to stand behind Ginny, snaking his arms around her waist as she cried again, silently. "Fred was such a great brother," Ginny said once the tears slowed. "I feel so guilty."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"I forgot about him," she said.

"You didn't forget," Harry replied. "It's like you said last night. It was taken from you."

"It's not fair."

Harry pulled her into him, pressing a kiss into her neck and resting his chin on her shoulder. He couldn't argue the point. It wasn't fair. So much of their lives weren't fair. "I think George had a harder time when you lost your memories than most of us," Harry said. "After Fred was gone, he really leaned on you. He wrote to you a lot your last year at Hogwarts. When you agreed to work for him after graduating, he wouldn't shut up about it any time he saw any of us. He talked about getting your room ready and the places he was going to show you around."

"Really?" Ginny asked quietly.

"Yeah. You really made life more bearable for him. I think he was desperate to do the same a few months ago when we realized what happened."

They were silent for several minutes. "Who else died?" Ginny asked.

Harry thought about this for a moment, then started on a list. Remus and Tonks. Ginny met little Teddy at the last family dinner with Andromeda, so at least there was a reference point for her. He told her how much she liked Tonks and the mealtime requests for her to entertain with her shifting looks. He mentioned Colin Creevy, and how he—like Ginny—was supposed to leave the castle, but didn't. He told her about Snape and Dumbledore and Sirius and every other person he hadn't talked about in years.

Harry supposed this was normal. You may carry the dead's memory with you, but it didn't take long before the discussions of their deaths were exhausted by those who already knew. But maybe they needed to talk about this more.

"I need a list," Ginny said. "I need a list so that if I start remembering… I know. It's better to know, right?"

"Yeah," Harry replied. "I suppose it is."

They were there for close to an hour before deciding to sit on the plot. Ginny was untangling the stems of the little blue flowers and weaving them into intricate designs when Hermione and Ron came with a bouquet of daisies, then George, Molly, Charlie, and Arthur ten minutes or so after that.

"Fred would have gotten a real laugh over you adopting all those animals," George said, breaking their silent vigil at one point.

"Remember that," Ginny replied with a smirk. "Because there's another cat who might need a new home."

* * *

A month passed and although Ginny didn't have another rush of memories, they were still coming steadily and fully formed. She remembered more about Ron, the train ride her first year, when her and Hermione had their first interaction without the others, and other family events from her childhood.

Ginny could tell how happy Harry was when she asked about their first kiss, recounting what she remembered, uncertain if that had really happened in front of the entire common room. He asked her to repeat it twice more as they spent the evening at his flat. In between each telling, he peppered her with kisses and smiled so widely she told him he looked like someone had done a jinx that split his face in two.

Late that night, as she stood in his arms for their last moments before she needed to go home, Harry licked his lips and looked at her nervously. "I still have your ring, you know," he said.

"I know," Ginny replied.

He didn't bring it up again and, though Ginny was tempted to say she would accept it again, she still felt her life was off balance. She couldn't say yes if anything happened that would delay a wedding again.

One of the biggest question marks in her life was Nye. By mid November Ginny had written a dozen profile pieces. Seven had been published, the others were on the publishing schedule. She sat in Nye's office with the last two in hand.

"Sorry, the editor's meeting ran late," Nye said, bustling in and stepping behind her desk. She didn't sit, but shuffled through piles of papers and designs on her desk. "What can I do for you?"

"These are for you," Ginny said, handing over the papers.

"You could have sent these by owl," Nye replied, taking them and dropping them into a stack on her right. "Next time just send them by owl."

Ginny's stomach churned. "That's not all, actually," Ginny said. "The season's starting up and I wanted to see what other jobs you might have for me."

"I don't have anything for you," Nye said, stopping, and placing a hand on her hip. "I already have all the field correspondents I need and I can't take away their work to hand over to a junior writer."

"Oh," Ginny said. "I see."

"Look, this is just how it goes," Nye said brusquely. "I'll contact you if anyone has to drop an assignment. It does happen, believe it or not, and if you do well you'll get seniority in the next year or two and have the pick of the work."

"Alright," Ginny said, trying to sound optimistic about it. "Thank you."

She stood, her face burning, ready to get out of there.

"Unless you wanted to write a feature," Nye said.

Ginny stopped and turned around, hope rising again.

"You know, an insider's view," Nye added. "Something about the bludgers or your training or—"

"I don't want to write about the bludgers," Ginny snapped. "Is that what all of this has been? Just some way to get the exclusive?"

Nye scoffed. "Oh please," she said. "I wouldn't have bothered publishing you if that were my end game. I'd have just gotten one of my reporters to butter you up. No, you've been hired because you're a good writer. In time I think you'll be a great writer."

"Then why do you keep bringing the accident up," Ginny said.

"Because you have a unique perspective that none of my other writers have. Most of them played for school leagues, if that," Nye replied. She unceremoniously dropped a stack of boards and walked around her desk, leaning back on it. "You played internationally on league and national teams, you were top of the game, and your career was ended by the game. It's all part of who you are, even the accident."

Ginny stayed quiet, blinking at Nye as though this were the first time she really saw her.

"Look, do what you want," Nye said. "Mention the bludgers, don't mention the bludgers, but an interesting feature written by a favorite like you could sell a lot of an issue, so just think about it and send it to me if you come up with something, alright? Otherwise I'll be in touch if anyone can't cover a match."

Nye didn't wait for a response, but turned to a box filled with owls and picked one up, breaking the seal and opening it to read.

"Thank you," Ginny said, then walked out of the office.

Ginny went back to George's flat, her new, tabby kitten mewing from her room. "Hi, Nymph," Ginny said, scooping her up and walking over to her bed. She grabbed her journal. There were only twenty or so pages left. She flipped back to the beginning.

 _I've decided to trust my mum_ , she read in the first entry. _If you can't trust your own mother, who can you trust, right? So I need to trust her like I trust Janae._

Ginny thumbed through to a few weeks later.

 _Harry… oh, I don't even know what to say. What if I'm not the same person? Sometimes I imagine this is all some strange mix-up, that the real Ginny is going to waltz in here and demand her ring and her family back. I feel impossibly torn. And Harry… I don't know what to think._

Ginny read her indecision on Quidditch and whether she would go back to the Harpies. She re-read her thoughts on the pensieve and giving Harry back the ring, and on their first date. She read about herself a month and a half ago and how she cared for her brothers and what she thought of each of them.

She was halfway through last week, when her memory of the Yule Ball and how Neville took her resurfaced, when Harry opened her bedroom door, knocking on the frame.

"I hope you don't mind," he said. "I knocked, but you weren't answering. And the front door was open."

"It's fine," Ginny said absentmindedly. She closed her journal, Nymph squirming in her arms as she set it aside. "Harry, I need your help with something."

Harry sat in the desk chair, looking over at her. "Sure, what is it?"

"I want to interview you," she said.

"About what?" Harry asked, looking skeptical now.

"About what you remember with me play Quidditch," Ginny said. "Before the bludgers."


	11. Footnotes

_**Footnotes**_

Though Diagon Alley is lauded as a wizarding space in Muggle London, another prevalent, if underused, location sits south of the Thames in the middle of Brockwell Park. A full sized pitch with stadium seating is a little known haven for those with a love for the great sport known as Quidditch (and who among us doesn't love Quidditch?) There, hidden by charms and wards, is a place not for the crowds migrating to see teams from the Federation, or even a location of the England National Team, but is a space for everyone else. From the youngest five year old players, to the oldest participant (Eugenia Hammersmith, still riding strong at ninety-six), there are no limits based on trials and acceptance to the team. The open door policy of most local groups is a chance for the average person to find an excuse to pull out their broomstick and give it a whirl.

My own first win was when I was fourteen. Though even then I preferred chasing to seeking, the seeker was the only position open on the Gryffindor team at Hogwarts. Before taking the spot, my mother was the only one who even knew I could play. My six (count them, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6) older brothers didn't exactly invite their little sister to tag along in their own games in our family yard. I would make my own practice sessions, playing each position with a sometimes invisible quaffle and calling the plays on a broom stolen from the outdoor shed. Mum stood at the kitchen window, watching and setting the others to tasks so they wouldn't notice and stop me in my fun.

At school, the brothers still around were shocked to find out I could hold my own on the field. In my fifth year I played chaser until the last game, when I substituted once more as a seeker. For the second year in a row we won the Inter-house Cup after I caught the snitch.

By this point I played scrimmage matches at home with my brothers and others who were around and wished to play. Not long after, I was convinced to at least sit for the trials in Wales, for the Holyhead Harpies, which began a four year career.

Of course I don't remember any of it. I don't remember my first time on a broom, or how many points I scored at any given game, or even the moment I found out I would be a Harpy. In fact, as far as I am aware, the stories above could be some elaborate joke (probably plotted by my ever-amusing brother, George). At the start of July, after what I've been told was a sudden blow to the head by a bludger, my memory was gone. Not just Quidditch, either. I would say everything disappeared, but even that isn't accurate. Bits and pieces existed, floating in what otherwise void of confusion for me, and often my family—who are included in what I did not remember.

The first thing that made sense to me was Quidditch. My brother Ron took me out to play. The pitch was slightly more sophisticated than the patch of dirt we once flew over. Being in the air made me feel free as nothing else did at first. It made me feel normal, if only for the brief time on a broom sinking shots past those I played with.

Strangely, even though this was where I loved to be most and despite the warm reception from my former team, going back to the rush of the crowds didn't seem right either. I was lost for a while, but it was on the London Pitch I seemed to find sense again.

The players who come to the London Pitch understand the heart of the game. They travel from all over, spending evenings and weekends that others might dedicate to quiet, stress free evenings, practicing for matches against other teams. Parents bring their young children for the junior leagues, where they learn with others their age how to play (sans bludgers). The stands echo the scattered bit of applause from the handful of family and friends that attend, but the lack of roaring crowds does not diminish the enthusiasm or effort on behalf of the teams. Without fanfare or team jerseys they play in rain or shine, audience or no.

It was this sort of dedication that I can only imagine made me fall in love with the sport in the first place. If the outcome of my participation could have been predicted, I don't know if I would have chosen to play that day. The accident that took me out of the game changed many aspects of my life I wouldn't have traded for anything, but in the midst of what has been taken, I still owe a large debt to the game that has also given back. After all, it is not the tragedies which define us, but the heart.

* * *

The article ran shortly after the New Year.

Ginny spent hours and hours with her family members and Harry asking many details as she continued to study the games she had omnioculars for, all the while memories were coming back. By the time the short feature ran Ginny remembered about half of the experiences she had been told about for the article.

Ginny also learned of other moments she wasn't sure she knew about, even before the bludgers. One afternoon in late November, she was clarifying some of the bigger game moments with Ron.

"So I feigned up and dropped the quaffle to Cooper?" she asked. "And Cooper scored?"

"No," Molly said before Ron could. "You were trying to drop it to Cooper, but she was blocked. You had to throw over the hoops to Watterlyn and Watterlyn had to barrel through their defenses."

Ginny and Ron both stared at her. "How do you know that?" Ron asked. "You didn't even come to that game."

"I read the reports on it in the Prophet the next day." Molly finished laying out the fruit on a tray and brought it over to the table, sitting down and wiping her hands on her apron.

"But you hate Quidditch," Ron retorted.

"I don't _hate_ Quidditch," Molly said.

"Bill said you don't really care for it, though," Ginny said. "He said whenever Dad got tickets from work you always stayed behind."

"Well, you're right, I don't care much for Quidditch," she agreed. "But I care a great deal for my daughter."

Ginny smiled at her and Molly smiled back.

"Yes, it was definitely Watterlyn that took that shot," Molly repeated.

They all snacked and continued talking. It was during this conversation that Molly shared her memories of Ginny and how she would steal her brothers' brooms to learn to play. "I knew I couldn't make them play with you," she said. "Broke my heart they didn't at least try. I talked to Charlie more than a few times, but he really was so much older and wanted to play with neighbors. Barely invited the twins, sometimes."

Ginny learned more than she ever thought she might from the process of writing the article. Her brothers were all enthusiastic participants, all excited to be able to share information where she was asking for it. Bill invited her to sleep over so they could talk about it, though him and Charlie had the least information, most of accounts of her professional experience.

No one was more involved in her work to write than Harry, though. Whenever she hadn't made plans elsewhere, he would come over, or invite Ginny to his flat, and they would pour over one draft after another. He rarely criticized what she had written, but always had some new thought that helped. In early December he deemed it perfect. Ginny spent two more days and made a few more adjustments before sending it to Nye. The response was positive.

The morning Ginny received a copy of the Prophet directly from Nye with a note indicating where her article could be found, she worked quickly and left the menagerie as soon as she was able, running errands and changing so that she was at Harry's flat just after he arrived home. He, too, had a copy of the Prophet, holding up the article with a large smile.

Ginny lowered her own pouting. "I was going to tell you," she said.

He wasn't put out as he kissed her. "You've been acting so squirrely about the whole thing I started looking for it," he admitted. Ginny folded up her own paper and bat him playfully on the arm. He grabbed her wrist and kissed her again. "I'm so proud of you," he said.

"I wanted to celebrate," she told him.

"Of course," Harry said. He set down his copy of the paper on the dining room table. "Where did you want to go?"

"I have it all planned, just go get changed," she ordered.

Harry did so and left Kreacher orders to make himself whatever he liked and to rest, as he had struggled more and more with the tasks he took on. They left Harry's flat and went to the restaurant where Ginny had made reservations already.

"So what now?" Harry asked. "Is Nye giving you assignments?"

"No, same deal as before," Ginny answered. "If anything comes up, I might get to write for them occasionally. Next season more… hopefully in a couple years I'll be on full time."

Harry told her about his work and how one case was going. They talked about some of the teams at the London Pitch, and their own tournament that would be run at the end of February.

Ginny lead the way out of Diagon Alley, taking Harry by the arm as she told him about the second owl she had adopted that day, this one paid for because she couldn't stand the family who came in to purchase him.

"They were _awful_ , Harry," she said as he laughed at her growing clan of animals. George was now selling cages made to mimic hers. Some of the rats and toads now resided in the joke shop as models for the products, well fed and checked on every evening by Ginny. "The mother said she supposed she didn't care if he was ugly, so long as he was quick. And she just let her four year old poke him all over the place! I couldn't let him go to a house like that."

"What did you name him?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Ginny said. "I thought I'd see if Charlie wanted an owl and let him have the honor."

"Just like you were going to give away Quintus and Aions?" Harry asked, a smirk flitting on his lips.

"Exactly like," Ginny smiled back.

Harry turned back and froze. Ginny still had his hand and tilted her head at him. They were in the middle of a rose garden, the light evening breeze blowing her hair back. "What is it?" she asked.

Harry tensed his jaw and shook his head, smiling over to her. "Nothing," he said. "Just… deja vu."

"Oh?" Ginny asked.

"It's nothing," he repeated.

"Okay," she replied, then pulled him forward.

They weaved quietly in and out of the gardens. Straight ahead was a tree, the branches having grown into a cage-like shape, sweeping the ground around its trunk. Ginny continued to tug at him, though Harry was moving more slowly, brows knit as they walked into the center. He gazed around, mouth hanging open at the little fairies glowing and dashing about in the center.

Ginny smiled, watching him as he looked uncertainly at their surroundings. She bit her bottom lip as he swallowed.

"You know, you never did give me that speech you prepared and memorized," Ginny said with a smile.

Harry turned towards Ginny. "You remember?" he asked in a breathless whisper. Ginny nodded. "Since when?"

"It came back a few days ago," Ginny said. "I was going to wait until Friday, but then the article seemed almost like a sign and I—"

Harry interrupted her, pulling her into him, kissing her deeply and Ginny met him, move for move, her hands on his chest before she snaked her arms up and around his neck. They stayed nose to nose, Harry let out little joyful laughs in between pressing his lips to hers.

"You didn't let me finish," Ginny said.

"What?" Harry asked.

"I wanted to ask if you'd marry me."

Harry's green eyes glinted. "I don't know," Harry said, still holding her tight. "When I asked, I got down on my knee and had a ring and—"

Ginny hit his arm and he caught her lips again.

"Absolutely," he replied once they parted again.

And Ginny knew she had been right before. There was no one quite as perfect as Harry.

* * *

Ginny and Harry walked hand-in-hand up towards the main table, stopping as Victoire tapped on one of the glasses with a fork the way Charlie showed her to signal the couple to put on a liplocked show. Everyone else clapped, others joining Victoire in the tapping of metal on glass. Ginny had suggested on a whim that they elope, but was now glad Harry insisted on remaining in Molly's good graces and allowing her to plan a wedding.

They didn't wait long, though. Picking up where they left off, Harry and Ginny decided April seemed as good a month as any to get married. Ginny went back to the muggle bridal shop, paid the remainder of the cost and had all the adjustments made for her dress. Luna and Hermione both wore blue dresses, Luna having touched hers up with little accents of colorful pearls that practically took over whatever design had been there before.

The couple finally got to the table, eating for the first time all day. "I'm starving," Ginny said.

"Fill up, Mrs. Potter," Harry whispered back with a grin.

They had only just started when Arthur stood, holding a glass of champagne in front of a rapt audience.

"As you all know, this day is a long time coming," Arthur said. "The day Molly and I have dreaded and looked forward to since the day we finally got the little girl we always wanted."

Molly was already tearing up beside Ginny, though Ginny wasn't sure she had stopped tearing up that entire day. Ginny reached out her hand for her mother's, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek, then turning back her to her dad.

"Watching Ginevra as she grew, I could never bring myself to imagine this day. I always thought about how no one could possibly be good enough. No one would understand just how precious she was. No man could possibly know what it meant to be there through everything. But something unexpected and wonderful happened." Arthur turned so he was facing them more than the crowd. "Harry Potter came into our lives and became our seventh son. This day is no longer about losing our daughter, but about making official what we have felt for over a decade now. Harry has been a part of as many, or more, of the important moments in Ginny's life, and we couldn't be happier that he will be part of many more."

Ginny wiped at her own tears now as her father winked at her. He turned back towards the others raising his glass. "To Harry and Ginny!"

Everyone raised their glasses, Victoire started the chiming again and Ginny leaned in, taking Harry's lips once more. She rested her chin on his shoulder as the applause died away. "I'll never forget this moment," she said.

"And I'll still be there if you do," he promised.

* * *

A/N: After all the really quick updates, I hope you'll forgive this longer wait! And the little bit of cheese there at the end :) (I thought you all deserved it after the up and down I put you through in other chapters!) I hope you enjoy the end of this! I'm working on another Next Gen story still… go check it out! Also, in looking at stats there are nearly 500 people who have visited this story! (WOW! And Thanks, first off!) I would love to hear from more people who are reading and what you think with a review! Thanks to everyone who have reviewed throughout. You all are the best!


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